Clockwatching
by papillon-chaotique
Summary: Christmas - New Years with Cameron & Chase. "Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear; too long for those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice. But for those who love, time is eternity." – Henry Van Dyke
1. Prologue

**TITLE:** Clockwatching

**CHAPTER:** Prologue

**RATING.** PG, for now.

**PAIRING:** Chase/Cameron

**SPOILERS:** Nothing solid, but everything up to at least "The Itch" can and likely will be eventually referenced.

**WARNINGS:** None for this section.

**SUMMARY:** _"Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear; too long for those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice. But for those who love, time is eternity." – Henry Van Dyke_

**NOTES:** This is, for the most part, a character study that takes place over the journey of several chapters and several emotions. The concept is something I would truly love to see explored in canon someday. Until then, it exists in my imagination and within the words of this story. Constant thanks to **enigma731** for beta, conceptual discussion, and support.

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Prologue

_December 24__th__ – 6:25PM_

It's somewhat ironic, Cameron thinks, that the atmosphere within the ER is one of laughter and cheer even amidst the endless chaos of holiday traumas and families destroyed. It should be the sort of thing that ruins your Christmas spirit and forces you to believe there really is no such thing as a life lived unbroken, but Cameron's been here for twelve hours now; the fact that she was able to save her latest patient from joining the ranks of holiday tragedies is more than enough to help her forget the sadness of all the others she's lost today.

A year and a half ago, it never would have been like this. Before she was promoted to Senior ER Attending and took over as head of the entire department, Cameron used to remember every name, age, symptom and diagnosis of the people she treated as a part of House's team. But the daily flood of patients down here is simply too much, and dwelling on each one individually is a recipe for disaster. This, she knows for a fact. It only took two weeks in her new position before she ended up on Chase's doorstep completely overwhelmed by the responsibility of so many lives and the inability to save them all. After hours of grieving those she'd lost and those she knew would slip through her fingers every day from then on, Chase's quiet stories of his Intensive Care years helped her to understand the necessity of compartmentalization.

"The bad news is that you never get used to it," he'd said.

But never getting used to it was the good news, as well, because allowing death to affect you is a daily reminder of your ongoing chance to truly live. Chase had made certain she understood the importance of taking the good from the bad, and using that good to get through each daunting day. From that night on, slowly but surely, Cameron had learned how to process the sadness quickly and carry on. She had begun delegating more and pressuring herself less. The dull ache of daily failure still throbs deep within her chest sometimes, but now it makes her even more appreciative of success – and of her own life, no longer kept on hold.

Eighteen months ago, a day like today would have sent Cameron home in tears, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget that the world existed at all. But now, as she pulls off the bloody trauma gown and latex gloves, tossing them quickly into the bio-bin by the double doors before hurrying down the hallway toward the nurses' station, all she can think about is getting home to her over-decorated apartment filled with her extravagantly wrapped gifts and her soon-to-be-unwrapped boyfriend.

"Someone's pleased with herself."

Cameron smirks triumphantly at Linda, the middle-aged nurse leaning up against the counter and examining a patient's chart. "Crisis averted," she replies as she moves around to start entering data into one of the computers. "And, miraculously, I got it done before my shift ended. Which means…"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, boss. Five-car pileup just out on the main road and – "

"That's the beauty of being the boss, Linda," Cameron interrupts, still smiling sweetly. "I can pull rank and tell you to hand it off to another attending."

Two years ago, Cameron worked straight through Christmas just like always. If you have nothing to go home to, you might as well immerse yourself in the work you love. One year ago, she would have gladly worked the holiday if anyone had called her in. If you're trying to convince yourself that you're not falling in love, it's easier to accomplish if you can escape those memorable occasions. But if you've succumbed to vulnerability – made room for love in your drawers as well as your heart – the thought of spending Christmas apart is nothing short of unacceptable.

"True," Linda laughs lightly in response, "unless every other attending is already with the traumas that came in while you were working on yours. And the roads are so icy, Dr. Vasquez hasn't made it in yet, which means…"

"No way. I am going home. I am going home to my Christmas tree and my boyfriend, and we're going to eat greasy take-out dinner and watch a cheesy Christmas movie on the couch. So you can just pretend you never said any of that to me, okay? Besides, Dr. Garman is here already, so you have more than enough – "

"Sorry, kid," Linda interrupts with the tone of a mother trying to let her child down easily. "Garman's the only one not currently on a case. Can't handle three incoming traumas with only one attending. Maybe you'll get lucky and they won't be so – "

"No no no, stop!" Cameron jumps in so suddenly and forcefully, she sounds just like a desperate teenager begging for permission to borrow the car for the night as her eye catches the clock on the computer – 6:27 – before continuing to fight back. "My shift ends in three minutes! Three! _Please_ tell me you're joking."

"No such luck, I'm afraid. And they're less than two minutes out. No time to escape."

Lowering her head until it makes contact with the monitor in front of her, Cameron sighs heavily in defeat and groans. "Fine. What are we dealing with?"

"Um, let's see… 39 year old female, Melissa Jenkins, and an unknown passenger – Doe, Lamb – and then another unidentified male from a different vehicle – Doe, Monkey. All three are unconscious. The rest of the victims were treated on the scene."

Cameron's head slowly rises again to meet Linda's eyes, which are clearly looking toward her awaiting directions on how to proceed. But Cameron can only think one thing. "Lamb and Monkey? Have we seriously had so many Does already today that we're on L and M?"

Face falling just a little, Linda shrugs slightly and hands the initial trauma report across the counter. "Merry Christmas to all."

"Dr. Cameron!" comes a shout from across the room, and she glances over to see two other nurses and one of her young residents rushing toward the doors of the ambulance bay.

Cameron jumps up quickly, totally professional again now that duty actually calls, and starts to take off in the direction of the incoming gurney before stopping in her tracks and turning to Linda once more. "Call Chase for me? He's gonna kill me."

-------------------

_6:32PM_

"BP is dropping again!"

Cameron looks up at the monitor from where she's examining the patient's abdomen when her resident makes the announcement, as if she can't already tell something is drastically wrong by the frantic and incessant beeping shrilling throughout the trauma room. "Are we sure there's no bleed anywhere? His face is covered in blood, there must be something causing the drop!"

"It's just a head lac," one of the nurses replies as she works to clean some of the blood away "enough to keep him unconscious, but it wouldn't drop his BP like this!"

"There _has_ to be an internal bleed, then. Get me a syringe," she demands quickly, putting pressure on the abdomen again in an attempt to locate any obvious areas of distress.

"Dr. Cameron…" She hears the same nurse from before just as another hands over the requested syringe and sanitizes a small area of the abdomen in preparation of the needle test.

"Charlie, I need you to get ready," Cameron barks at the young resident without taking her eyes from the newly cleaned spot of skin, "you may need to call for an OR…"

"Dr. Cameron, I really think – " the suddenly passive nurse tries once again.

"Just give me two seconds!" she shouts authoritatively, inserting the needle into the abdomen of this unidentified man and pulling back on the syringe, slowly.

"But you should – "

"Dammit! He's bleeding into his abdomen," Cameron yells in Charlie's direction, quickly and carefully removing the blood-filled syringe and turning to place it on the tray behind her. "Make the call. He needs exploratory surgery to locate the bleed. Get him prepped to – "

"Dr. Cameron!"

"_What_?!"

"I'm sorry, but… It's Dr. Chase…"

The room goes silent, save for the morbid symphony of monitor beeps, as Cameron's eyes immediately move to focus on the face of the man she's been trying to save. What was once completely concealed by blood is now freshly cleaned and offering up the previously undiscovered revelation of identity. Robert Chase. There is no question – no mistake.

Cameron slowly takes two small steps backward, distancing herself just slightly from the tragedy that threatens to add her own name to that list of families destroyed on this day. She can do nothing but stare, terrified, at the battered face of her boyfriend as her chest starts to constrict and all sound fades away. The last thing she hears is Charlie on the phone, alerting someone at the OR desk that their own Dr. Chase is being sent up for an emergency procedure.

And then she runs.


	2. Chapter One

WARNINGS: Read the prologue first, or else this makes no sense. Otherwise, spoilers for seasons four and five.

NOTES: It's holiday time! I wish everyone the best. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up by next weekend, but I make no promises given the craziness of Christmas week. Enjoy! Thanks, as always, to enigma731 for beta.

**Chapter One**

_December 24__th__ – 6:41PM_

And finally, there's silence. No ambulance sirens. No phones ringing. No mockingly cheerful Christmas carols floating from the nurses' station radio. No staff frantically shouting trauma details. But most importantly, no screeching monitors announcing the quickly approaching end of another life she adores. Now all Cameron hears are the sounds of her own heartbeat and the squeaking of her sneakers as she paces across the linoleum floor. There is no hysterical crying or labored breathing, only composed shock and numb confusion as she tries to make sense of her world suddenly spinning off its axis.

Without warning, the sounds of the ER break through her calm and alert Cameron that someone else has entered the locker room that has become her secret hiding place.

"Dr. Cameron? Are you in here?"

She freezes in place, hoping that a reply of silence will allow her to remain undetected within these tile-covered walls. It's a voice that Cameron recognizes as the department's newest young nurse, but she's only been here for two days and Cameron can't begin to place her name with all the other information swirling around in her mind. The fresh-faced graduate probably drew the short straw anyway, and is wishing desperately for the excuse to turn and run without having to deliver whatever news the rest of Cameron's staff is apparently too cowardly to provide.

"Dr. Cameron?" The youthful voice is louder now, apparently unrelenting, and Cameron hears a few light footfalls before the figure appears around the partition. Cameron watches stoically as the young nurse smiles cheerfully in her direction, clearly unaware of the shark tank she's jumped into head first.

"There you are! You probably don't – I'm Kassie? The new – I started – Nevermind, you know that," she stumbles, still smiling widely, when she sees Cameron's eyebrows raise and head nod tightly in an attempt to request that the young woman get to the point. "Anyway, everyone was trying to find you for an update on that MVA guy. And I thought I saw you run in here earlier, so…"

She didn't draw the short straw, Cameron realizes. She's just over-eager and, at the moment, incredibly stupid.

"I need a few minutes alone, Kassie, okay? You should go."

Cameron channels every remaining ounce of her energy into patience and kindness toward this unknowing girl, but every word out of Kassie's mouth is one word more than she wants to hear. All she wants is to be left alone until she can make this whole situation disappear.

"Oh, okay, sure," Kassie replies, clearly dejected but never breaking that now-infuriating smile. "It's just that they all made it sound pretty urgent, so - it's that MVA guy you were working on before? Actually, it was that ridiculously hot surgeon I saw down here on my first day – Dr. Chase, you know? Well, anyway, he's up in the OR now and everyone acted like it was important for you to find out immediately, so… now you know! I heard that young guy say that he crashed in the elevator on the way up, but they got him back pretty quickly so I bet it's not really – "

"That's enough! Thank you." Cameron's back is turned away from Kassie now as she leans heavily against one of the lockers, the pain of hearing that Chase went into cardiac arrest having almost caused her to faint on the spot.

"Are you… okay, Dr. Cameron? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine. Just go, please. Go."

Kassie sighs deeply and Cameron can practically feel those bright-but-misguided eyes staring at the back of her head as if she's actually on a suicide mission to push this as far as she possibly can.

"Hey, look, if you're worried about that doctor, I'm sure he'll be fine. And, really, for what it's worth? He was kind of a dick to me, anyway. Like he thinks he's too good to date nurses or something. I mean, seriously, I did some of my best flirt work on him, and he acted like he was disgusted with me. It's like, c'mon, you're not _that _hot, man. Maybe getting knocked around by the universe on Christmas Eve will take his ego down a few – "

"Or," Cameron interrupts ever so calmly as she turns to meet Kassie's eyes once more, this time with a deadly glare, "he's the complete opposite of an ego-maniacal bastard, and he honestly wasn't interested in you since he's completely devoted to his _girlfriend_."

Kassie's face contorts only slightly, but it's more a look of amusement than realization. "You think that's actually true?" she replies on the breath of a laugh. "I overheard one of the other new girls saying the only reason he's ever down here is because he's dating one of the attendings, but I told her she was an idiot. I mean, really, I can't imagine a guy like that _ever_ wanting a serious relationship. He seems like such a player."

And now it's Cameron who's laughing softly, amazed at the audacity this woman displays in the presence of her department head. "Well, you never know – maybe you're right. Of course, last time I checked, a year and a half constituted 'serious relationship,' and, unless he's been sneaking out of bed while I'm asleep every night for the past eighteen months, I'd say he's the furthest thing from a player."

"Oh my god…" Kassie breathes out quietly, eyes as wide as saucers and glossed over with panic "You. It's you – you're the – "

"Girlfriend. Who's trying to process that the sky feels like it's falling right now, but thank you _so_ much for breaking it to me gently. Your bedside manner is exceptional, really," Cameron huffs in a biting reply as her hands come up to cradle her face in shock. "I mean, how dare you…"

"I – I'm sorry, I didn't know – I never would have – "

"Get out."

And as Kassie darts for the door and back out into the reality of the ER, Cameron collapses onto the bench at her left and drops her head between her knees, breathing deeply but still refusing to shed a single tear.

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_7:03PM_

By the time the locker room door opens again, Cameron is sitting on the floor in the corner with her knees pulled toward her chest while her fingers tap out an irregular rhythm along her shins. She stares straight ahead, eyes glazed over in what most people would assume is sheer boredom if they didn't actually know any better.

"Interesting," comes the no-nonsense voice of Nurse Linda as she bends down to retrieve Cameron's pager from the floor before crossing the room and taking a seat on the bench. "I know if I were dealing with a personal medical crisis, I'd certainly leave my pager far out of reach."

"It wouldn't stop beeping," is Cameron's steady reply.

"Really? Imagine that. I wonder if it's trying to tell you that half of the hospital is looking for you. Including all of your friends."

"I can't – I can't deal with them, okay?"

Linda nods slowly and Cameron leans her head backward, knowing this is all just going to lead to a heart-to-heart anyway. This woman has been the surrogate mother of every staff member under the age of forty-five since long before Cameron became the leader of this pack. And if Cameron's completely honest, she's been hoping Linda would come in to talk her through this sooner rather than later.

"I'll have you know you made one of my new babies cry. She's been out there blubbering for almost fifteen minutes about how she'll surely be fired. The fact that she actually believes _you _have the power to fire nurses makes me think she just might deserve to be scared for a while, though."

Cameron exhales quickly through her nose in a tiny laugh that isn't accompanied by any sort of smile. "I'll talk to Joanna. It wasn't Kassie's fault."

"No, but it _is_ her fault if she graduated nursing school without learning the difference between a department head and a nurse manager. Let her squirm for a while. Then _I_ will talk to Joanna. You need to get your butt off the floor and go check on your man."

Shaking her head and pursing her lips into a pout, Cameron opens her eyes and finally meets Linda's gaze before running a hand through the hair she let loose the minute she ran in here. "Can't. If I – going up there just…"

"Makes it real? Hiding from it won't make it go away. Have you even let yourself cry yet?"

"Don't need to cry. I'm fine."

Linda sighs heavily and tosses Cameron's pager at her, where it lands in her lap. "You and I both know you're lying. But fine, we can sit here for as long it takes. In the meantime, I need to know if you have a copy of Robert's insurance information? I'll get as much of the paperwork done for you as I can, but it'll go faster if we don't have to go through channels to get his coverage numbers."

"Uh," Cameron starts slowly as she grabs the pager from her lap and reattaches it to her scrub pants "no, I don't know – it would have been in his wallet…"

"He came in as a Doe. If we had his wallet, I wouldn't have to ask – "

Pulling her cell phone out of the breast pocket of her scrubs, Cameron clears her throat and rubs a hand over her eyes. "We have to call HR, then. I'll do it. You go back to – " But a sharp intake of breath stops her from finishing as her eyes focus on the screen of her newly-opened phone and the lettering that tells her she has a waiting text message from Chase. Pushing the OK button on the keypad, Cameron holds her breath as she watches his words from over an hour ago finally appear.

_Forgot my wallet in my locker. On my way back for it. I'll wait for you to finish – drive you home myself. Don't like the idea of you out on the ice. No arguments, babe._

The phone slams shut quickly, now gripped so tightly in Cameron's hand that her knuckles are white and her veins are popping. She squeezes her eyes shut almost painfully and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth before inhaling slowly and reacting all at once. "You idiot!"

Cameron is on her feet and out the door in a flash, leaving a dumbstruck Linda in a cloud of confusion and unanswered questions on the bench.

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_7:22PM_

The rush of adrenaline that sent Cameron sprinting up three flights of stairs and through four different corridors is still pumping through her veins so vigorously that she can't manage to keep her hands from shaking even now that she's finally standing still once again. She's spun the dial – left, right, left – at least ten times now in an attempt to open Chase's locker, but her mind is out of sorts all over again and she knows she's spinning just slightly past the numbers she needs in her haste. Taking a deep breath to try to regain her focus, Cameron begins again and this time the metal structure before her takes a severe beating when the lock refuses to cut her some slack.

"You know, punching the couch cushions would probably be less painful. Might even protect those well-trained hands in the process."

Cameron spins around in surprise, not having heard the door to the surgical lounge open.

"Wilson. You scared the hell out of me." She tries to act casual, as if she hasn't just been caught on the edge of complete collapse, and wonders to herself why it is that she can't seem to find an uninterrupted escape no matter where she runs.

"Where the hell have you been?" he questions bluntly, making Cameron feel as if it's several years in the past and she's still a subordinate that can be chided by her boss' best friend for any little slip-up. "Everyone has been paging you for almost an hour. We were about to make Thirteen and Kutner go break into your apartment to see if you took off, but your staff said you were still here."

Turning her attention toward the lock again, Cameron chooses to ignore what he's said, figuring it was all basically a moot point anyway since they obviously found out she never left.

She hears Wilson sigh and knows that, better than anyone, this man will see right through her façade of strength. But she's determined to stay in control, if only on the outside.

"Do you need some help with that?"

"Thanks, I'm fine. I just – his wallet is – and I open this thing at least three times a week, so I can't figure out why it's not – "

Her hand stills when Wilson reaches out to stop her, and Cameron hasn't even realized he's moved across the room to offer help until suddenly he's there. "Mind if I give it a try?"

She stares at her shoes, unable to meet his eyes when she knows he'll call her bluff. "He'd kill me if I told you the combination. What if you give it to House?"

Wilson chuckles a little at her attempt to lighten the mood, but applies a bit more pressure to her hands and moves closer so that she'll be forced to step aside and allow him the opportunity to help. "I'd say that under any other circumstances, you'd probably be justified in that suspicion. But I promise I'll delete it from my memory as soon as we get this opened."

"Fine. I don't – I just need to get his wallet," Cameron concedes, wringing her hands tightly. "It's, uh, 5-37-23."

"Okay," Wilson replies, almost to himself, as he begins to spin the dial. Within seconds, Cameron hears the metal snap of success and lifts her face to see Wilson pulling the locker door wide open.

Lunging forward, she starts rifling through all of the books and CDs that Chase keeps on the top shelf where she also knows to find his wallet when he's operating or taking a shower, but tonight it's not there. She steps back momentarily, confused, before crouching to the floor where she finds it lying amidst a pile of shoes and crumpled, dirty clothes.

"Ugh," she grunts as she pushes herself upright again. "Unbelievable slob. I told him to get this stuff out of here two weeks ago." Moving across the lounge to sit on the sofa, she leaves the locker wide open in case she realizes there's something else she needs, and Wilson slowly follows before lowering himself into the armchair to her right. He watches silently as she traces her finger around the edges of the leather in her hand, making no movements to open it and look inside.

"I assume you need that for his insurance cards, and I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure you can't draw them out with sheer brain power."

Cameron glances up to finally meet his eyes, and smiles weakly before returning her focus to the worn leather between her hands. "He's such an idiot," she whispers softly.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to let you tell him so when this is over," Wilson says, but Cameron doesn't react at all this time, forcing him to be direct. "You need to go check on him. They took him up almost forty-five minutes ago."

"I _know_," she replies bitterly "_I'm_ the one that realized there was internal – _I know_."

"You were on the case?" Wilson practically gasps in response, but Cameron keeps her eyes trained on Chase's wallet nonetheless. "Cameron, I'm so – I mean, we knew you were down there when he was brought in, but no one said anything about – Wow. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Cameron whispers before continuing in her normal, full voice, "he'll be fine, so…" She shrugs nonchalantly as she lets the rest of her thoughts linger, unfinished, in the air between them.

Wilson eyes her suspiciously, completely convinced by the locker-abuse he witnessed moments ago that she is anything but okay. "You're right. He'll probably be fine. But maybe he won't."

Cameron's head snaps up at lightning speed and Wilson finds himself on the receiving end of a look that could kill the strongest of men. "Why would you say that? How is that even in the same galaxy as being helpful? How can you even – "

"Because I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. It won't help you. You think it will, because you want to believe that denying the possibility will keep it from ever happening. It doesn't work that way. You and I both already know that better than most people."

When her only response is to quickly look away again and close her tired eyes, Wilson knows that he's at least succeeded in making her think about her late husband. And about Amber. It's sad, really, Wilson knows, but living through the tragedy of a love lost is practically the only thing he and Cameron have in common. And he's not about to let her make a huge mistake in the face of tragedy number two.

"There's more than a huge chance that he'll come out of that surgery in a few hours as good as new, and you'll be able to convince yourself that you were right to stay away and just believe the bad things couldn't touch you from a distance. But… sometimes all it takes is one wrong move; one half-second delay; one – one seemingly innocent flu pill, and suddenly…"

Slowly, Cameron lifts her gaze to Wilson's once more, this time filled with empathy and heartbreak. She remembers all too clearly how simple Amber's case should have been; a horrific battering, for sure, but nothing a little surgery and TLC wouldn't fix. And yet, the most unexpected twist of fate has left Wilson with a daily reminder of how fleeting time can actually be.

"They…" she begins tentatively, unsure she wants to know the answer to what she's been dying to ask. "I heard that he – they said that his heart stopped?" And just saying the words aloud has practically drained her of any remaining resilience.

Wilson doesn't hesitate, nodding softly before taking a breath to explain. "In the elevator, on the way to the OR. He was down for less than a minute before they were able to shock him back, so it shouldn't have any lasting effects."

He watches her carefully as she silently takes in the information, biting down on her lower lip before turning yet again to the wallet in her hands and finally folding it open. Slowly, she pulls out Chase's insurance card and moves to hand it to Wilson. "Do you think you can take this down to one of my trauma nurses? Linda? She's been filling out all of the paperwork and I…" Wilson nods quickly, keeping Cameron from having to finish her thoughts, and reaches out to take hold of the plastic.

Cameron's eyes float back to Chase's wallet, and Wilson stays put as she gently traces her finger over the photo on his driver's license. She laughs softly at how young – how completely different – Chase looks in the picture, and suddenly it occurs to her just how long she's known him. But before she can linger on the nostalgia too much, she notices the emblem at the bottom of the card.

"Um, take this with you, too," Cameron adds as she starts to pull it from the plastic window. "He's an organ donor, and if anything – " She's stopped short not only by her inability to think of the worst case scenario, but also by the folded piece of photo-paper that falls out from behind the now-released ID card. On the side facing her, written clearly in Chase's perfect scrawl, is a date: _May 28, 2008 – Wednesday_. Barely breathing, she carefully picks up the photo paper and slowly unfolds it to reveal the image inside.

What she sees takes her breath away entirely: it's a snapshot from their one-year anniversary when he had taken her into New York for the day. They're standing on a bridge in Central Park, lost in each other's kiss and looking happier than she had ever believed possible until he came along. She realizes now, as a lone tear finally falls from her eye, that she never even knew he had captured the moment on film.

"What OR is he in?" she asks Wilson, standing suddenly and thrusting Chase's ID into his hand.

"Uh – three, but they won't let you in – Cameron!"

And just like that, she's gone again.


	3. Chapter Two

**WARNINGS: **Knock it up to PG-13 in the rating, merely due to language.

**NOTES: **This took a bit longer to get done, what with the holidays taking up all of my time, so hopefully you can forgive me. I intend to update again within a few days to make up for it, so here's hoping. Thanks, as always, to **enigma731** for beta and for also allowing me to pick her medical brain for this chapter.

**Chapter Two**

_December 24__th__, 7:34PM_

After sneaking down corridors and past half-a-dozen nurses with a stealth-like nonchalance, Cameron sprints up the staircase to the OR3 gallery, taking the steps two at a time in her desperation to see Chase before anyone realizes she's gotten inside. As soon as she reaches the landing, one door is all that stands between her the ability to check on him with her own two eyes. If only she could get the message from her brain to her arms and force them to reach out and push past the barrier before her. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the other side, Cameron glances down at the photo still clutched in her hand and smiles again at the now bittersweet memory as she allows it to infuse her with the strength to carry on.

Reaching out, she pushes slowly through the doorway and immediately moves her eyes in the direction of the viewing window. Instead of focusing on the figures of surgeons down below, feverishly working to heal Chase, though, Cameron finds herself frozen in the shocked gaze of her haggard-looking boss.

"Dr. Cameron, you – how did you get up here?"

"How is he?" Cameron responds with a question of her own, moving to stand beside Cuddy and silently hoping all rules and regulations will be abandoned now that she's already here.

Cuddy sighs deeply, never taking her eyes from the woman at her left, but does not relent. "He's stable at the moment. But you can't be here. You know that."

"I'm a doctor. And this isn't a closed procedure. I watch – I watch him work…"

But the rest of Cameron's thoughts fade away as she loses herself in the action down below, suddenly feeling the force of how real this is for the first time. This isn't like any other day or any other surgery that she's watched from this very gallery. The skilled hands working with precision to save a life are not the hands of Dr. Chase. This time, the great Dr. Chase is the one being saved. Or so she hopes.

"Cameron," Cuddy whispers with gentle force, "you're not a doctor tonight. You're the loved one. Family. You know the rules."

"House brings family members up here all the time. He always has," Cameron replies evenly, arms crossed defensively over her chest as she maintains her focus on the ongoing procedure.

"Yes, he does. And you were always the first one to bring that to my attention, pointing out that the rules are there to protect loved ones from seeing something they shouldn't have to. If this were any other situation, Cameron, you'd be agreeing with me before I even had a chance to say a word about it." Reaching out tentatively, Cuddy places a gentle hand on Cameron's shoulder and follows her gaze to where Chase lies unconscious on the table. "You don't really want to see this. And Chase wouldn't want you to, either."

"He's been here for almost an hour and I was – I was hiding. I should be here. He would – if I was the one – he would be up here if it were me," Cameron finally chokes out before pulling her lower lip habitually between her teeth.

Cuddy laughs just slightly and Cameron shifts her eyes to watch as the dean shakes her head in apparent disagreement. "No, actually, Chase would be screaming about how this is _his _department and demanding to scrub in so that he could protect you himself." At Cameron's sudden, desperate look, Cuddy gives her a sympathetic smile. "And I wouldn't give in to him, either."

Ever so slightly, Cameron tightens her already-tense grip on the refolded photo between her fingers and looks through the glass window once more before closing her eyes to fight back the tears that still await complete release. "I just need to make sure he'll be okay. If he – and if I'm not here…"

"He's doing great, Cameron. They gave him a few units of blood and he's holding steady. You need to go back out there and try to rest. He'll expect you to be bright and shiny when he wakes up," Cuddy finishes with a supportive smile that conveys the utmost faith in Chase's recovery. "C'mon. I promise you'll get updated every thirty minutes. And I'll even let you wait in his lounge instead of the family area. Deal?"

Cameron reaches up to wipe away another lone tear – only the second of this ordeal – that has escaped the watery trenches of her eyelids and started racing down her flushed left cheek. "Okay," is all she can manage to quietly sigh in response before turning to walk toward the exit with Cuddy, neck craned to catch one last glimpse of Chase from over her shoulder before it all disappears from sight.

---------------------------

_9:02 PM_

The surgical lounge is silent, despite being filled with far more people than Cameron wishes to see right now. As her eyes dart around the room, they land on the faces of Wilson, Foreman, Kutner, Taub, Thirteen, Linda, Cameron's three best friends from outside the hospital – here with their own boyfriends, all of whom have become buddies of Chase's over time – and two of her closest friends from the ER. All of Chase's friends from the surgical department are currently in the OR with him, having promised Cameron that they would personally see to his survival. House had been in earlier and remained on his best behavior for nearly twenty minutes before losing control amidst the awkward tension, making a crack about how the accident could miraculously turn Chase into just the type of damaged person that Cameron desperately longs to love. It was Kutner's quick reflexes that grabbed hold of Cameron's waist and pulled her back just seconds before her full-blown physical attack would have become a reality, and House found himself immediately banned from the surgical floor until further notice.

When Cuddy arrived at 8'o'clock with the first half-hour update, she fought off the urge to ban everyone but Cameron to the family room. By 8:30, Cuddy was barking orders about hospital regulations. "Team Cameron" refused to leave the blonde all alone, though, and Cameron wasn't about to leave the lounge unless it meant access to the OR. Cuddy had finally relented, and here they all remained.

All they've been told, again and again, is that Chase is stable and that the doctors are still working to repair the damage. No one, not even Cuddy, will go into the specifics of what that damage consists of, and Cuddy is making sure none of Cameron's support group gets past the OR desk in search of details. Cameron understands the reasons why, but it's doing nothing to lessen her anxiety. Nor do the endless cups of coffee she's been pumping into her bloodstream throughout the night. For the past hour or so, Cameron has bounced back and forth in an unsteady routine of pacing the floor and collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. Several times she's closed her eyes, giving the appearance of sleep, but the refuge of an unconscious state still escapes her even now.

Curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the sofa, the only comfort Cameron has been able to find exists in the form of Chase's navy blue fleece jacket that was hanging on the coat rack here in the lounge when she arrived. Without hesitation, she had tucked the now-precious photo into the pocket of her scrub shirt and maneuvered her tiny arms into the huge sleeves that had warmed Chase's own muscles as he engulfed her in a hug when they snuck away on a break together mere hours ago for lunch. Now she lies silently, fleece wrapped so tightly around herself that she can almost imagine he's holding her instead, and breathes in his distinct scent as the minutes continue to tick by far too slowly and much too fast at the very same time.

And, suddenly, it's as if Cameron's internal clock has a heightened awareness and she knows, without actually knowing yet, that they should have heard something else by now. Sitting up quickly, she turns to check the clock on the wall and jumps to her feet when she realizes she's correct. Before anyone has a chance to question her actions, she's racing out the door and down the hall.

"What's happening?" she shouts before she's even reached the OR desk, startling the nurse behind the counter. "It's past 9'o'clock. I was promised half-hour updates, but no one's been in since 8:30 and –"

"Dr. Cameron, it's barely three minutes past. I'm sure someone will be out to speak to you any minute now."

"No," Cameron whisper-yells in response, "_you're_ here right now. It's ridiculous enough that none of you will let me check on him myself. Now I want _you_ to find out Dr. Chase's status." At the nurse's intense stare in response, Cameron adds a quiet "please, Jackie. I just want to know if he's still okay," and pleads even more strongly with her eyes until finally the nurse picks up the phone at her right.

As Jackie dials the OR extension, Cameron hears footsteps and turns to see Foreman, Linda and her best friend Megan all approaching quickly behind her. They stay quiet, which Cameron assumes is only because she isn't currently causing a scene, and wait concernedly a few paces back.

Listening intently and impatiently, Cameron waits for Jackie to finish the seemingly endless conversation and hang up the phone before leaning against the counter in anxious anticipation of the news.

"There haven't been any major complications since the last update. They've given him another unit of blood, but he's been stable the entire time. They say it should only be another half-hour or so before they can close."

Cameron's face is in her hands now, and she's bouncing ever so slightly on her fidgeting right leg before taking a deep breath and looking up once more. "Look, I just – I don't want to know that he's just stable. I want someone to tell me what the hell happened! Come on, Jackie! This is me! I've brought you coffee every single time I come up here to see him during a shift – you know this is ridiculous to keep treating me like a naïve family member! I'm an ER doctor! I'm _his_ ER doctor! I saw the blood, I saw the trauma - I just want someone to tell me what caused it! Call them back and tell them that I don't give a shit about their damn protocols anymore, so someone had better –"

"Cameron!" Foreman yells in interruption before she can say something she'll soon regret. The blonde spins to point her glare directly at him now, and he raises his hands in a symbol of surrender. "I'll go find Cuddy. Just try to relax."

As Foreman walks off toward the elevators, Linda brushes the hair from Cameron's face as Megan wraps an arm around her shoulders and they both begin to lead her slowly back to the security of the lounge.

---------------------------

_10:27PM_

Over an hour later is far too much time past the half-hour guarantee of the surgical team upon the last update Cameron received during her rant at the OR desk. Chase's buddies have had to block the doorway leading out of the surgical lounge in order to keep Cameron from flying out of the room in a rage once again, but Taub and Thirteen have been gone for nearly forty minutes in search of answers to calm the now understandably frantic young attending.

At long last, however, the door to the lounge slowly opens, the boys step aside, and Cuddy enters with House's two underlings trailing close behind.

"It's about fucking time!" Cameron screams as she races forward from the back of the room. "What happened? They said it would be done almost an hour ago!"

"He's okay, Cameron," Cuddy assures strongly. "Closing took them a long time. They wanted to be as precise as possible with the stitches. It set them back a bit. But he's on his way to recovery right now, so you can relax for a while."

Cameron sighs heavily, the burden of impending doom momentarily lifting from her shoulders, but she still cannot completely calm down. "What happened?"

The entire room is standing at attention now, dozens of eyes focused on Cuddy and silently demanding that she deliver nothing but good news.

"It was a liver laceration that caused most of the bleeding, but that should heal well enough. His left ankle is fractured, but it could have been a lot worse. The real issue – his bowel was perforated."

There's a mixture of sudden inhalations and instant silence as the medical professionals in the room look at one another for confirmation of what they fear to be true and the others stand unaware.

"Is he – did he get septic?" Cameron manages to ask quietly, maintaining strong eye contact with her boss and the only person with any answers right now.

"No," is the instant reply from Cuddy as she shakes her head slightly but does not smile with reassurance. "But it's always a risk with a bowel perf, as you know. They've started him on IV ampicillin, but unfortunately all we can do is wait."

"Wait for how long?" asks Will, the devoted boyfriend of Cameron's friend Abby, and one of Chase's closest friends from the outside world. "I mean, what exactly does that mean, septic? How bad is that?"

Cuddy pauses momentarily and surveys the room, realizing again that there are loved ones present who need things explained in the way most loved ones normally do. Looking to Cameron for approval before delving into the risks at hand, she receives a slight but terrified nod before taking a breath and starting again. "The bowel perforation allowed toxins and bacteria to escape into the rest of Chase's system and blood stream, which very often results in the patient developing a severe systemic infection. The entire body becomes toxic and blood pressure drops. In worst case scenarios, sepsis can lead to cardiac arrest, brain damage, long-term coma and… and death."

"So, wait," Will chimes in again, moving away from the crowd to stand closer to Cameron, "even though you said just a minute ago that he would be fine, you're telling us he could still die?"

"All we can do is wait, now, Will," Cameron whispers, clearly on the edge of breakdown but fighting to maintain her dignity in front of the crowd.

"I'm sorry," Cuddy responds with heartfelt empathy. "We'll monitor him constantly tonight. The next few hours will be critical in determining an outcome. But there's nothing you can do for him at this point anyway – he needs to remain isolated. So, you," she continues gently, stepping toward Cameron and meeting her broken gaze, "should go get cleaned up and try to rest for now."

"No," Cameron shoots back without hesitation, head shaking adamantly. "I need to be sure he's okay, I can't just –"

"He _is_ okay. Right now, he's perfect. There's risk, yes, but you know just as well that there's risk post-op no matter what happens during surgery. If you want to help him, go take care of yourself in the meantime. Go home."

"No, absolutely not, I'm not leaving the hospital when there's still a chance that –"

"Then go back to the ER. Go get some clean clothes from your locker. Take a shower. Do whatever you need to do, but take a few minutes to focus on yourself. Chase would make sure you did, you know he would."

Reluctantly, Cameron responds with a nod of her head, eyes now locked on the floor in front of her, and slowly puts one foot in front of the other, leaving everyone else to their own devices as she heads back down to her own territory for some much-needed solitude and release.


	4. Chapter Three

WARNINGS: None.

NOTES: I genuinely appreciate all of the love and reviews I've gotten for this so far. I'm glad people enjoying reading, as I'm enjoying writing it. Thanks to **enigma731** for beta and for also allowing me to pick her medical brain _again_ for this chapter, as well.

**Chapter Three**

_December 24__th__, 10:44PM_

It's taken every ounce of strength that Cameron has left in order to remain focused and collected during her trek from the surgical lounge on the second floor back to her own safe haven of concrete walls in the basement. Although it's only been just over four hours since Chase was brought in and her world skidded to a drastic halt, the desperate pain in Cameron's chest feels as if she's been fighting back a flood of tears for far longer. Her destination, once again, is the ER locker room and, as she rushes through the door, she's determined to make it under the cascading waters of a shower before she actually allows herself to cry.

Unlike the last time she escaped to these tiled walls, however, the locker room is now occupied by two young residents and one of her fellow attendings. Cameron forces herself to walk slowly and casually past them, denying them eye contact the entire time. She can feel them watching her, knows that they're longing to ask how she's doing and whether or not there's any news about Chase, but she's also almost certain that none of them will say a word if she continues to ignore their presence.

Barely breathing now from the heaviness within her chest, Cameron stops at the bench in front of her own locker and achingly peels off the warmth of Chase's fleece, placing it carefully on the wooden slats of the bench. Determined to display a mask of effortlessness, she begins removing her watch and earrings, as well as the pager from her waistband, and gently lays them on top of Chase's jacket. She reaches into the breast pocket of her scrub shirt just as casually and pulls out her cell phone along with the folded photo from Chase's wallet. She pauses momentarily, silently choking back tears as her eyes once again read the date on the back of the snapshot, and it's an absolute blessing when she finally hears the rest of the room's occupants leave her to her private agony.

Reluctantly, she places the photo on the bench beside the other items and inhales a slow, deep, ragged breath before taking a few steps across the room to start the water in one of the shower stalls and place a towel on the hook just outside of the curtain. As she allows the water to run in order to heat itself before she steps inside, Cameron returns to her locker and removes her scrub shirt, shoes and socks, leaving her thermal undershirt and scrub pants in place as she turns to spin the dial on her locker. Magically, it opens on the first attempt despite her still-shaking hands and her newfound haste to jump into the shower and release the tears. But as she quickly pulls it open, her world stops yet again at the sight before her eyes. There, hanging sweetly from the top shelf of her locker, is a sprig of mistletoe with a bright red note card tied on by a string of silver ribbon. Eyes welling up with bittersweet tears, Cameron quickly blinks them back again so that she can focus on the shiny silver writing that spells out Chase's incredibly thoughtful surprise.

_You owe me a kiss._

_See you when you get home._

_Merry Christmas, love._

Cameron audibly chokes on the air in her lungs, no longer able to fight back against the steady waves of heartbreak and tears that are now charging with the power of a tsunami. This man – this wonderful, adorable man – is now lying unconscious three floors above her, and this endearing message may well be the last thing she ever receives from him, the last words he's ever physically written. The realization is terrifying, and the burden of that coupled with the relief of finally knowing he survived the initial surgery is an utterly unbearable combination of emotions.

In an instant, Cameron turns and sprints to the locker room entrance, turning the deadbolt to ensure that she remains alone, then begins stripping the rest of her clothing away as she runs back toward the now-steaming shower and collapses behind the curtain.

As water cascades down her naked, sobbing form, Allison Cameron finally lets go.

----------------------

_11:57PM_

If she were at home instead of at the hospital, Cameron knows, the water pelting down on her from the shower head above would have started running cold long ago. But as the steam continues to rise around her in her grief, she realizes that this may be the first and only time she's ever been truly glad to be showering at work instead of in the comfort of her own apartment. She's been crying for over an hour now, having flown through the first four stages of grief in a manner that would baffle most psychologists.

Depression reared its ugly head first, causing Cameron to sob uncontrollably until she could hardly breathe any longer. The only thought in her mind had been that of losing Chase and how she wasn't sure she'd survive another loss of that magnitude. It had lasted nearly thirty minutes, overwhelming in its power, before subsiding just enough to allow anger to take over instead. Grateful that she had locked the door and was assuredly alone, Cameron had screamed at the universe for its cruel nature in trying to take Chase away just as she was finally starting to believe in love again, before quickly refocusing her anger on Chase himself. She had been suddenly furious with him for endangering himself just to try to protect her instead, and she had wanted so badly to kill him herself for putting her through such unnecessary anguish.

Eventually, though, the rage had instantly backtracked into the realm of denial, and Cameron spent a good ten minutes shampooing her hair and convincing herself that there was simply no way anything else could go wrong now. The doctor in her knew better, however, and the peaceful state of denial quickly jumped erratically toward bargaining, where Cameron found herself promising a God she no longer believed in that she would reconsider the idea of faith if only He would keep Chase alive somehow.

After a momentary lapse into denial once again, Cameron now finds herself on the brink of acceptance. As she massages conditioner into her golden locks and soaps down her tired body to remove the physical strains of the day, her mind begins to consider Chase's strength under pressure and what she imagines he would do if the situation were reversed. She thinks back to that night, just over a year ago, when Chase had comforted her with stories of the ICU and how good doctors managed to maintain control even under the harshest of circumstances. Chase has always been the strong one, even in the earliest days of their working together. Cameron suddenly remembers their first year working side by side under House, both before and after the arrival of Foreman, and how Chase used to fight her tooth and nail about making things too personal with their patients.

She knows this situation is entirely different – Chase is her boyfriend, the probable love of her life, not a random patient under her care – but Cameron still thinks she could benefit from trying to be like more him in intense situations. She used to find herself temporarily mesmerized by his skill during a crisis, watching him as she stood to the side, nearly paralyzed by fear. Chase has always been so quick to react; to take charge in a trauma and think with a clear, level head.

She is certain that he would tell her, yes, things are bad right now, but they're far from catastrophic. She knows Chase would never give up on her when the worst-case scenario was still nothing more than a looming threat. And she also knows that the least she can do is to pull herself together and become a beacon of hope for his survival. He deserves more than to have his girlfriend considering the end whilst he lies, alive and well, in a recovery bed.

Washing the last of the soap from her hair and body, Cameron becomes resolute in her newfound optimism as she turns off the water and grabs the towel from the hook just outside. Wringing out her hair before wrapping the towel around her body, Cameron steps out of the shower stall and heads out toward her locker to redress quickly, intent on getting back upstairs as soon as possible.

-------------------------

_December 25__th__ – Christmas Day_

_12:23AM_

Cameron rides the elevator back up to the ICU with a small smile on her lips and a new sense of peace in her heart. Dressed in clean scrubs (and Chase's navy fleece, of course), with her wet hair pulled back into a tight bun, she thrills at the realization that it's been two hours now since Chase was taken to recovery, and there hasn't been a single warning sign of anything going wrong. Her beeper has been gloriously silent the entire time she's been away, and Cameron's now determined to move forward with the optimistic, Chase-like attitude she accepted as necessary before leaving her fortress of shower solitude. All she can think of, now, is getting to Chase and holding down a hopeful vigil of strength.

He's alive, and he's okay. And Cameron feels certain that as long as he continues to remain stable – as long as nothing else drastic swoops in to change the game – she and Chase will both pull through this crisis just fine. Perhaps, she thinks, even stronger than they were before.

As the elevator reaches its final destination and the doors slowly slide open, Cameron takes a deep breath and begins putting one foot in front of the other. Chase is only a few corridors away now, and she has no intention of leaving his side again until the surgical anesthesia wears off and he flashes her that charming smile that she knows he saves specifically for her. Cameron silently promises never to take that smile for granted again, if only she can continue seeing it every single day.

Just as she passes the nurses' station in the neurology wing, though, her pager begins to shriek for attention. Cameron stops dead in her tracks, heart momentarily skipping a beat, as she fears what the message may say. Slowly, she reaches down to her waistband to tilt the pager for a better look. The code is a 911 from the ICU desk, and Cameron instantly knows in her gut what must have happened. Still, she refuses to believe the worst until she sees it for herself, and suddenly she's racing down hallways and around corners just like she had been hours before.

Finally rounding the last corner and passing through the entrance to the ICU wing, Cameron can already hear a cardiac monitor screeching from nearly fifty yards away. She stops momentarily, unsure if she actually wants to find out the truth, but breaks into a sprint as soon as she recognizes Cuddy stepping out of the patient's doorway. Cameron knows now, for sure, that the morbid sounds are coming from Chase's room.

"Cameron! Whoa!" Cuddy yells after noticing the panicked woman charging down the hallway. "Stop! Wait!"

Cameron finds herself suddenly held back by her boss' arms, and the adrenaline in her system would have caused her to knock Cuddy flat on the floor in an attempt to get to Chase were it not for the sight of him through the glass walls of his room.

"Charge again! _Clear_!"

Cameron watches as a doctor she's vaguely familiar with places the paddles on Chase's chest, shocking him violently, his unconscious body lifting momentarily from the mattress with the jolt. Her face scrunches in agony at the sights and sounds, and Cameron is only partially aware of Cuddy stepping away until the sound of the sliding glass door closing reaches her ears.

"Don't!" Cameron shouts desperately. "Leave it open. I know I can't go in there, but just – I have to know exactly – leave it open."

Cuddy looks back and forth between Cameron's panicked, crying form and the chaos on the other side of the glass, but finally nods in hesitation before sliding the door fully open once again.

"He's still in V-fib," Foreman yells, staring at the monitors, and it's the first time Cameron even notices that he's there. She feels a momentary flash of relief that at least someone she knows and trusts is in the room, making sure Chase receives the best, but her mind returns to terrified dread as soon as Foreman reminds the team how long it's been.

"_Seven minutes_?" she cries out to Cuddy in horrified despair. "He's already been down for – he can't take much more! Do something!"

"Again!" comes another command from within the glass confines, and Cameron can't seem to look away despite knowing that the sight is slowly tearing her apart. "_Clear_!"

Cuddy remains silent in response to Cameron's plea, but moves to stand beside her as they both stare unblinkingly at the nightmare unfolding before them.

"Still nothing," shouts another of the ICU doctors. "Push another milligram of epi!"

Foreman turns instantly, rushing to grab the necessary syringe and do whatever he can to assist in keeping his colleague alive. Returning to Chase's bedside, Foreman administers the drug quickly before checking the monitors. "Go again!"

"Charging – _Clear_!" and, again, the shock causes Chase's body to rise up in that way she's seen at least a million times in patients before, but Cameron's never realized until now just how scary and unnerving the motion actually is.

"Still V-fib," says one of the nurses, eyeballing Foreman and the lead attending equally.

"It's been eight minutes, Dr. Foreman. You're the neurologist here, but you and I both know we're officially on the brink of permanent brain damage."

Foreman takes a short moment to glance out the window at Cameron, seeing her tear-streaked face and remembering a time when she had refused to give up on him in his time of need, too. "One more time," he tells the doctor across from him. "Give him one more shot before we call it."

The attending nods and commands the nurse to raise the charge. "_Clear_!" he calls out, then watches the monitor himself, hoping for any reaction. "No change," he whispers disappointedly, glancing back to Foreman in defeat.

Cameron holds her breath when she sees Foreman slowly let out a sigh before looking up to meet her eyes. And without a word, she knows what he's thinking. "No!" she screams, moving to the open doorway but not stepping inside. "You try again, Foreman! _Try again_!"

"It's been over eight minutes, Cameron. His brain function could be – "

"Eight minutes is the baseline for _possible_ brain damage! Not a _guarantee_! You're the neurologist, so don't you _dare_ give up on him just because – " she rambles frantically, stopping mid-sentence when she realizes she's wasting time by talking. "Just – try again! _Now_!"

Foreman holds her penetrating gaze for no longer than five seconds before pulling his shoulders back again and nodding to the other doctors in the room. "You heard her. Again."

And Cameron watches, as the seconds seem to fly by much faster than she'd like, Chase's body being shocked again and again and again, until finally the ten-minute mark passes and she knows it's becoming a lost cause. But just as quickly as she thinks it, there's a noticeable change in the sounds from the heart monitor.

"Wait," Foreman says, voice suddenly tinged with excitement, "wait – he's back. Got a pulse."

Cameron exhales the breath she hasn't realized she'd been holding in, tears still racing down her cheeks from the fear. Now, though, they're beginning to fall in relief. He's still alive. She has maintained hope, and maybe even found a little bit of faith, and she was right to make them keep trying. He'll wake up now, and she'll be able to read him the riot act for scaring her so thoroughly.

"Wow," she hears Cuddy whisper beside her, noticing her wipe a tear from her eye.

"What happened?" Cameron finally questions, although she already knows the answer, and watches carefully as Foreman begins to check Chase's pupils and run the rest of the neurological exam.

"Septic shock," Cuddy replies quietly. "I was starting to hope that the antibiotics had gotten ahead of any infection, considering that he'd made it through two hours already, but… it took over almost instantly. They paged me about his temperature, and his dropping BP, but by the time I got here his heart – he was already in arrest."

Cameron nods slowly, swiping at the tears on her face, and takes a deep breath. "He's okay, though. He'll be okay, now. So it's – it's okay."

"You sure found your optimistic side again quickly," Cuddy laughs lightly in response, and Cameron can't help but smile a little at how good it feels to be hopeful.

They both go quiet again, turning their attention to Foreman as he finishes up the tests and slowly turns to exit into the hallway where they stand.

"What is it?" Cameron asks after a moment of Foreman simply staring at her, expressionless. The feeling of impending doom starts to stir again in the pit of her stomach, but she tells herself to wait for the answer before making any assumptions.

"Cameron, he – " Foreman begins, hesitantly. "He isn't showing any response to pain stimuli. And his pupils are unresponsive to light. He – "

"No," she states firmly, already backing away. "No, I don't – I don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry, Allison. I really am. He's in a coma."


	5. Chapter Four

WARNINGS: None.

NOTES: Thanks for the continued support. I hope to have another chapter up before the end of the week, but I make no promises :) Beta'd by **enigma731**.

**Chapter Four**

_December 25__th__ – Christmas Day_

_10:17AM_

"Cameron, what are you doing?"

At the sound of Foreman's concerned voice, she momentarily freezes in place before lowering the clipboard in her hands and turning to face him.

"Working," she tells him, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world and he's a complete idiot for asking.

"I can see that," Foreman responds evenly, eyeing her with uncertainty as she turns again and continues along her path across the ER, forcing him to follow if he has any intention of getting some real answers. "But _why_? It's Christmas Day. You're not on the schedule. And you said you were going home to get some sleep."

"I did," Cameron replies distractedly, ducking into the supply closet where she begins to casually take an inventory. "And now I'm working."

Foreman hesitates only briefly before saying what's on his mind. "Because it's easier than dealing with Chase?"

"Because we're busy." Cameron turns completely away from Foreman, giving the impression that she's detailing the collection of spare scrubs on the shelves.

"Yeah," Foreman replies dryly, glancing around the ghostly-quiet ER and taking note of the nurses happily gossiping behind the desk. "It's a nightmare in here. I'm surprised you even have time for an inventory count."

Cameron sighs heavily but still doesn't look up from her notes. "We'll be flooded soon. Holiday dinners are about to start. Turkey-carving fiascoes are inevitable."

"Okay. So, then, what's with the get-up?" he questions pointedly, eyes traveling up and down her well-dressed form.

The distraught and exhausted look of an anxious girlfriend that he saw less than twelve hours ago – clean scrubs, wet hair pulled back, no makeup – has now been replaced with one of Cameron's classic pantsuits and a colorful blouse, her hair perfectly curled and pulled away from her face with two stylish, bejeweled clips. Her makeup looks as if she's about attend a cocktail party as opposed to working an unscheduled shift in the ER, and the stiletto heels that adorn her feet are nothing if not completely impractical for a day in the pit. The oversized navy-blue fleece that she refused to part with all night has noticeably disappeared, now replaced by her crisp, white lab coat instead. Something is wrong here, Foreman knows. Something more than the news of Chase's condition. He's completely at a loss for what that something might be, though.

"What?" Cameron answers, digging through a stack of emesis basins and attempting to keep count as she talks. "I can't wake up in the morning and decide that I actually want to look like a woman for a change?"

"Sure. But I still don't understand what you're doing _down here_."

"There was nothing else to do, so I picked up a shift." Cameron still hasn't made eye contact since entering the supply closet, maintaining a deep focus on her inventory work to keep Foreman from getting a good look at what's really going on beyond the façade.

"Right," Foreman scoffs. "It's not like you have a boyfriend lying comatose in the ICU. Makes perfect sense that you would spend the day working instead of upstairs making sure he's okay."

Cameron simply shrugs her shoulders, jotting down a notation on her clipboard. "Doesn't matter."

"_Excuse me_? It sure looked like it mattered a whole hell of a lot yesterday!"

"That was different," Cameron calmly replies, turning her attention to the boxes of latex gloves.

"How was it different?" Foreman is digging for the answer now, certain she's hiding the truth beneath this mask of denial.

"It just was, okay?"

"Then explain it me, because I'm having a hard time understanding how you can suddenly act so careless about the man you love when – "

"No, I don't!" Cameron interrupts forcefully, finally spinning to look Foreman dead in the face. "I don't love him. He's just… he's Chase. He's a friend, yeah, but – but it was never that serious."

Foreman's eyes widen in shock at her explanation, disbelieving his own ears. "You actually expect me to buy that? You two have been nearly inseparable for over a year."

"So?" She's staring him down now, challenging him to push her further and to question her resolve. "We had fun. It was a warm body to hold onto at night. _You're_ the one who told me that a relationship like that is better than being alone."

"True," Foreman jumps back in without hesitation, "but _you're_ full of shit if you think anyone who's seen the two of you is ever going to believe that's all it is. Was. Whatever you're trying to convince yourself."

"Look, Foreman, I get that you're just doing your job, or looking out for me, or whatever, but – Chase is in a coma. The end. I did my part as the crying girlfriend all night, but now – now I really have work to do."

She turns away from him again quickly, staring down at the clipboard and inhaling so slowly that Foreman almost doesn't notice. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Allison Cameron is incapable of not caring, and that she is most certainly existing under an umbrella of complete denial in order to survive this tragedy, but he isn't about to let it continue.

"Okay, then. Fine. If that's really the way you feel, then I'll go back upstairs and tell them to take him off life support. I mean, since it is officially your call, and all."

"What?" Cameron spins again so forcefully that she almost trips over her own feet this time, eyes wide and brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"HR pulled his living will. He listed you as his medical proxy. And if you're saying this coma is the end, then," Foreman slowly turns and takes a few steps away, "I guess that's all there is to it. We'll let him go."

"Wait!" Cameron shouts, voice cracking in the process, and when Foreman turns to look at her once more he is met with the sight of the woman he saw the night before. Eyes already welling up with tears, Cameron pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and takes a few steps forward to reach Foreman again. "He – he really did that? Made me his proxy, I mean? He never told – when did he – is it legal?"

"Yeah, completely legit." Foreman nods confidently. "I don't blame him. You didn't let me down when I gave you the responsibility, and we didn't even _like_ each other." He pauses momentarily to give her the shadow of a smile, then answers her one lingering question. "The papers are dated November of 2007. Seems like he had a lot of faith in you from the start, even if you have only been using him for the companionship."

Cameron's eyes squeeze shut and she dips her head in shame, shaking it tightly back and forth. "I didn't – I'm just – I couldn't sleep. I kept having this nightmare and he – it was his funeral, and I was supposed to give the – the eulogy, but I couldn't…" She stops, rubbing a hand over her face and tilting it up to look toward the ceiling. "I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think and – and then he was there, and my husband was there, but they were both still dead and… I just kept waking up screaming, crying so hard that I couldn't – "

"I get it," Foreman assures her quietly, but the tense stance of his body tells her that she's made him slightly uncomfortable with so many details of her psyche. "But Chase isn't dead, Cameron. Not unless _you_ decide that he is."

"I know," she whispers, a tear finally trickling from her eye, "but I just – I got so scared, and I didn't want to feel that kind of pain again. It was bad enough when I lost my husband, and this is…" She can't bring herself to tell Foreman that losing Chase would be even worse; that her love for her late husband doesn't even compare, and therefore this current tragedy strikes a much deeper chord within her heart. "I just – I finally figured… maybe if I got back into my routine – focused on my looks and my work and any—anything other than the possibility of – but, don't. Don't give up on him."

"Cameron, you're the one who has to decide whether or not to give up on him. I know it's hard, but his life is literally in your hands now." Foreman gazes at her, awaiting any sign of a reaction, before turning again to walk away as he finishes. "We can't do anything without your permission, so come back upstairs whenever you decide to act like his girlfriend again."

"Foreman?" she calls out, voice still strained with pent-up tears. "What's his status? I mean – how bad?"

Foreman turns to face her, sighing deeply. "He's a GCS-3," he says gently, knowing the news will break her heart even further. Cameron doesn't have to be a well-trained neurologist to know that it's the worst score a patient can receive on the Glasgow Coma Scale, and he had been hoping she wouldn't even ask. Now he has to face the possibility of Cameron as an even more desperate emotional wreck, and Foreman's spent years trying to avoid dealing with that very aspect of her personality.

To his surprise, though, she doesn't fall apart. Instead, Cameron merely exhales raggedly and swipes two more tears away from her cheeks. "He's still not responding at all?"

"No. We're still testing him every half-hour, but there's been no change."

Cameron pulls her arms across her chest, gripping the clipboard and looking entirely helpless. No matter what kind of past they've had together, Foreman knows she is a genuine friend and he can't help but empathize with her in this moment. Chase's chances of waking up – of surviving – lessen more and more with each passing hour, and Foreman wishes there was something he could do to promise her a joyful outcome. In lieu of that option, though, he does the only thing he knows for sure will matter to a person like Cameron. Taking a few slow steps forward, Foreman opens himself to her and wraps the broken woman in his embrace.

Tears now flowing onto Foreman's scrubs, Cameron allows herself a brief moment of comfort in being held before finally stepping back, wiping her eyes, and meeting Foreman's again with a look of absolute determination.

"I want to see him."

-------------------------

_11:06AM_

The hallways of the ICU are nearly silent, save for the constant chirping of machines from open doorways and the soft murmurs of hospital staff discussing patient care with family members who look just as desperate as Cameron feels. She barely notices any of her surroundings, though, as her gaze remains focused on the steady rise and fall of Chase's chest on the other side of the glass. He looks peaceful, she thinks, as if he's merely sleeping. And, in some ways, he is. Except that this is the kind of sleep he may never awake from, and the consistent breathing movements from his body are the effects of a machine-operated ventilator – not the strength of his severely weakened lungs.

"What's the good word?" comes the unmistakable voice of House from several feet behind where Cameron stands beside Foreman outside of Chase's room.

She sighs heavily at his sudden presence, and Foreman immediately turns to run interference. "No change, House," he states firmly, a warning glare upon his face. "She just found out about the proxy duties, so this really isn't a great time for you to – "

"Relax," House interjects calmly. "I promise I'll play nice. Scouts honor," he finishes, eyes wide with pseudo-innocence and hand raised in a perfect display of the Boy Scout pledge symbol.

A tight-lipped, barely-audible scoff escapes from Cameron, who still hasn't looked away from the sight through the glass, but she makes no outright protest to House's interest in Chase's condition. She's too preoccupied with the responsibility that now rests on her shoulders to care much at all about what House may think or say, and, in truth, she's simply too far past the point of exhaustion to fight back.

Foreman's shoulders drop slightly in resignation, deciding to give House what he wants. "Like I said, there's no change. I just did another round of response tests a few minutes ago, and he's at the bare minimum of involuntary reactions."

"Still GCS-3, then," House states in understanding, and Foreman is shocked but slightly relieved at the compassionate tone he hears.

"He gets any worse, he'll be brain dead." The comment rolls off of Cameron's tongue with such professionalism and ease that both Foreman and House find themselves gawking at her briefly, but are reassured of her emotional attachment as soon as her eyes shut tightly and a tear escapes from behind the lids.

"Foreman, you know," House suddenly starts again, slicing through the tension, "there was a note for you in the office that one of your trial patients called. You should probably go take care of that."

"I didn't get a page," Foreman responds, clearly disbelieving, suspicious that House is merely attempting to get rid of him for a while. "And my trial patients don't have the number for your office."

House rolls his eyes dramatically and leans even more fully onto his cane. "Would you just get out of here? I'm not gonna piss her off!"

Foreman glances back at Cameron, but she doesn't even blink, seemingly lost in a daze of overwhelming thoughts.

"Cameron?"

"It's fine," she whispers, proving that she actually has been paying attention.

"You gonna be okay if I leave you here with him?"

She nods silently, but Foreman still hesitates for several seconds before finally taking his leave once House begins to tap out an impatient rhythm with his cane. House waits until Foreman has rounded the corner and been out of sight for at least twenty full seconds before making a move, but eventually he sidles up shoulder-to-shoulder with Cameron at the glass.

"So," he breathes out quietly, "what are you gonna do?"

Cameron gives a tiny, slow shrug in response, her lips pressed together in an exaggerated pout. "Nothing. Keep waiting, I guess."

"Chase wouldn't hate you if you decide to let him go. He's always believed in euthanasia." House watches her intently, extremely curious about the emotional connections taking place within her mind.

"Chase isn't as one-dimensional and cold as he tried to make you believe back then, House. Don't assume you know what he would or wouldn't hate me for." Cameron shakes her head in aggravated amusement, eyes momentarily looking down to the floor before she continues. "He would never – if I was the one lying in that bed right now, I have to believe that he would never do that to me when there's still a chance."

House turns his attention to Chase's comatose, unresponsive form and releases a heavy sigh. "The odds on that chance are pretty slim."

"I don't care!" Cameron replies vehemently. "Unless he gets worse – unless he's… legally brain dead – no one is touching him!"

"Not even you, apparently." Cameron eyes him in confusion, her focus leaving Chase's form for the first time, until House explains. "You're still standing here. You're not in there with him, nagging him incessantly to wake up."

"They still won't let anyone sit with him," she whispers tiredly, gaze trailing back to the glass that separates her from where she truly wishes to be.

House nods slowly in understanding and shifts his weight from the cane to his good leg, leaning just a tiny bit further into Cameron's personal space. "You know the protocol. Antibiotics should run the course within another day or two."

"I know." Cameron nods tersely, another tear dropping from her cheek. "And I know he'll come out of it, no matter what the rest of you think. I just… I just want to go in there, hold his hand, close my eyes and make it so that none of this ever even happened. I just want to go back to yesterday and get the Christmas that Chase and I were so – " Cameron stops mid-sentence and exhales heavily, remembering whom she's talking to and realizing that he probably doesn't care. "This just – this is so far from what I wanted to be doing today."

Studying her profile in silence for nearly an entire minute, House turns to look at Chase again and finds himself honestly wishing there was something he could do to change the fate of his two former fellows.

"I suppose that's why life's such a total bitch," he says at last, shifting his weight again and turning to walk away. "You can't always get what you want."


	6. Chapter Five

WARNINGS: None.

NOTES: This chapter ended up a lot longer than I intended for it to, but I suspect that's not something people typically complain about :) We're in the home stretch now, kids! One chapter left! Beta'd by **enigma731**.

**Chapter Five**

_December 27__th_

_4:43AM_

"Dr. Cameron?"

The sound of her own name breaks through Cameron's consciousness with relative ease, jolting her awake with the sudden awareness of a woman who's barely slept more than six hours in the past three days, and whose few precious hours of quiet rest have been anything but deep and peaceful. She's been on high-alert since visiting Chase's room with Foreman and returning to her rightful persona as Chase's beloved, protective girlfriend, and now it's been nearly forty-eight hours of wait-and-see responses to every question she's had for his doctors.

Sitting up quickly from her makeshift bed on the sofa in the ICU lounge, Cameron blinks several times to adjust her eyes to the light before jumping to her feet once she realizes that the owner of the voice calling out to her is Chase's lead attending, Dr. Pearson. For the past day and a half, she's had to seek him out in order to receive updates on Chase's condition, so she knows instantly that whatever he has to say is incredibly important if he's roused her from sleep at nearly five in the morning to do so.

"What happened," she says, throat constricting in fear. "What – is he okay?"

"Calm down," Dr. Pearson reassures her with a soft smile. "He's the same, but I thought you'd want to know immediately that I'm finally satisfied with the job of the antibiotics. You're free to go in and see him now. Unless, of course, you want to get back to sleeping."

Cameron spins back toward the couch, grabbing her cell phone, pager, and the folded photo from Chase's wallet (that she had hidden in the depths of her purse on Christmas morning) before standing upright again and shooting Dr. Pearson a look of impatience. "Are you kidding? Let's go. Now."

As they begin making their way down the hallways toward Chase's private room, Cameron sets a speedy pace, forcing the doctor beside her to keep up as he unnecessarily reminds her of Chase's condition.

"Like I said, there's really been no change beyond that of the infection finally clearing up. Dr. Chase remains at a GCS-3 stage, and we'll continue to monitor his response reflexes every half-hour to be certain that he hasn't – "

"Can you not?" Cameron interrupts, slowing as they reach Chase's door.

Pearson furrows his brow in confusion, glancing between Cameron's defensive form in the doorway and the bed upon which Chase lies unconscious. "Dr. Cameron, we have to run the tests as frequently as possible in order to determine whether or not his condition has worsened."

"I know, but I'd rather you not," she answers defiantly. "I've been waiting to get in there with him for days. I just want a few uninterrupted hours. If his coma worsens to brain death, checking for it later today instead of every thirty minutes isn't going to change that. And I'd rather spend some time with him, thinking that's not happening, before I find out that it is, okay?"

"It's protocol, Dr. Cameron," Pearson responds in an attempt to assert his authority over the matter. "I understand that you're dealing with a lot of conflicting emotions under these circumstances, but I can't just break the rules to – "

"Then call Cuddy," Cameron replies as a challenge. "And when she tells you to cut me some slack and look the other way, make sure you tell everyone else to stay out of here for a while, too."

With that, Cameron turns and crosses the threshold to Chase's room, sliding the glass door shut with a loud slam before hesitantly moving to his bedside. It's different somehow, seeing him in this state without the glass barrier creating a safe distance. He looks more fragile to her now, but also much more alive. His skin is healthily pink again, and, she realizes as she reaches out to caress his cheek, completely warm to the touch. There is nothing about him that shows signs of impending death, save for the fact that he can't wake up or react in any way.

"Hey, babe…" she whispers softly, tears beginning to fall from her overwhelmingly tired eyes.

Carefully, she reaches out to grasp his right hand, clasping it tightly between both of her own for a brief moment before gently lifting his entire arm and moving it until it rests at a right angle from his body. Remaining acutely aware of his broken left ankle, now set in a cast and propped up with two small pillows, as well as his still-healing internal injuries and stitches, Cameron delicately seats herself upon the bed and then slowly lies back, curled up tightly beside him. She reaches behind her head to grab his arm once more, pulling it toward her and wrapping it around her torso, fidgeting only slightly as she settles into place with her head safely nestled against his shoulder.

With her hand placed strategically over his heart in order to take solace in its continued beating, Cameron finally allows her mind to feel at ease – if only for these few hours of comfort – and lets the exhaustion force her eyes closed in a truly peaceful slumber.

---------------------

_8:28PM_

The door to Chase's room slides open softly, allowing Cameron to step in with ease upon her return from scavenging both the hospital and their respective apartments for supplies. She's rejuvenated now, having slept soundly in Chase's unmoving arms for nearly ten hours before waking with a new sense of determination and allowing the doctors to re-enter and run more tests. Cuddy had spoken to Dr. Pearson and the rest of the ICU staff whilst Cameron was sleeping, and they had all reluctantly agreed to a compromise of only checking in on Chase once every two hours, unless otherwise requested by Cameron herself. Cuddy later told Cameron that she had every confidence in the young woman's abilities to monitor his vitals as she sat with him throughout each day, and therefore she was willing to make an exception so long as no-fault contracts were signed and the hospital was relieved of any responsibility for Chase's deterioration should it happen within the hours he was not being officially monitored.

It's been several hours now since Cameron felt the relief of her first real victory in protecting Chase as she saw fit, and she has spent most of the evening away from the ICU collecting different necessities to make Chase's room more comfortable and to help trigger an awakening. As she crosses toward his bed now, she looks radiant with hope and a smile spreads across her face at the still-new thrill of being able to sit with him at any time.

"I'm back," she says cheerfully, pulling the armchair from the corner right up to his bed and placing a bag full of goodies on the table at his head. "Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to get as much as possible done so that I won't have to leave again. I brought you some great stuff, though."

Cameron has been holding one-sided conversations with Chase since right after she woke up in his arms, remembering her training and that talking to coma patients has often proven effective in keeping the brain alert and assisting in bringing them back to a conscious state. Leaning in, she places a gentle kiss upon Chase's forehead and then turns to the bag on the table, pulling out the thick, gray blanket that lies on top.

"I went by your place and grabbed the throw from your couch," Cameron continues speaking, unfazed by his lack of response. "So you'll have the familiar feel of it, plus it smells like your apartment. Not sure if that's a good thing or not, actually," she adds with a small laugh at her own sense of humor.

"But," she persists, reaching into the bag once more, "I also brought you this. My pillowcase. From _my_ bed. Smells like me." Cameron reaches out, placing a hand behind his head and lifting gently so that she can remove his pillow, lowering his head back onto the mattress and working to replace the hospital's pillowcase with her own.

Over the next few minutes, she makes small talk with the comatose Chase as she continues to pull items from the bag and place them strategically around the room. While at his townhouse, she also grabbed the portable DVD player, several of his favorite movies, and the iHome stereo system from the bedroom so that she could play music for him off of the iPod she retrieved from his locker. She places his can of distinctively aromatic shaving cream on the table beside the phone, a brand new razor taking its place nearby so that she can clean away the several-days-worth of growth in the morning and start a routine of exposing him to the scent on a daily basis.

Hand lotion, cologne, a bottle of her perfume and the worn copy of Chase's favorite book that he keeps in his locker are the last of the items to be pulled from the depths of the bag, and Cameron places them on the edge of the table, moving the empty bag to the floor. She pulls the creased photo of her and Chase in Central Park from the pocket of his fleece which she's still wearing and stands it on the table as well, then reaches into her purse to pull out the mistletoe and note that she'd left hanging in her locker and hides it protectively in the table's top drawer.

Taking a deep breath, Cameron reaches down to pull up the zipper on the fleece and then takes a seat in the armchair at his side.

"I figured we could read," she tells him sweetly, shifting slightly to grab the book off of the table again. "I haven't read this since high school, you know. But you're always talking about it, and I know how much you love it, so… maybe it'll help?" Cameron leans forward, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes and placing her lips within an inch of his ear. "I need you to find some way to let me know if any of this is reaching you, okay babe? You have to try."

Cameron pauses momentarily to rest her forehead against his temple before quickly sitting back into the chair, clearing her throat and moving to open the book in her lap. A prayer card of Saint Jude acts as a bookmark for a page in the third chapter, but she chooses to overlook Chase's ongoing religious faith for now, wanting merely to focus on her own faith in the strength that Chase has always had. Flipping the pages to the start of the first chapter, Cameron settles into a comfortable position and begins to read aloud.

"'If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap…'" Swallowing roughly at the nature of these opening words, Cameron thinks she already understands why this book means so much to Chase. "…'but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.'"

And, silently, she sends up a desperate, hopeful wish that his connection to these words may somehow be his saving grace.

------------------------

_December 29__th_

_1:37PM_

Turning the corner toward Chase's room on her way back from a bathroom break and coffee run, Cameron is surprised to see Foreman and Cuddy standing outside of the doorway, waiting. Their faces are somber, but not intensely enough to cause Cameron to panic. She is, however, intensely curious about this impromptu visit, and wastes no time in closing the distance that remains between them.

"Hey," she starts, eyeing them cautiously. "What's up?"

"Cameron, we need to talk," Foreman answers directly. "About his condition."

"Dr. Pearson is concerned," says Cuddy, as gently as possible, "that there's been no improvement at all. You've been doing everything you can think of to get him to reconnect, but Chase… Unfortunately, Dr. Pearson is asking that you start to seriously consider turning off the machines."

"What? No – absolutely not!" Cameron takes two full steps backward in shock at Cuddy's words, nearly dropping the cup of coffee in her hand. "You can't be serious! He just needs more time!"

Foreman steps forward a few inches, his face sympathetic despite his tone. "By midnight tonight, Cameron, he'll have been in a stage three coma for five days. You know the statistics. If there's been no change after seven, it becomes highly unlikely that he'll ever recover."

"But it hasn't been seven days yet, Foreman. I'm not – we're not even having this discussion right now!"

She moves quickly toward the doorway to Chase's room, but stops when Cuddy adds one more comment.

"Cameron," she calls, "sometimes the right choices are the hardest ones we ever have to make. You need to prepare yourself for this."

"He made _me_ his proxy. Not either of you," Cameron replies, glaring at them both hatefully, "and certainly not Pearson. _Just me_. I'm the one he trusts to keep him safe. It's _my_ choice, and I say we aren't even discussing it!"

Instantly turning in the direction of Chase's room once more, Cameron rushes inside and slams the sliding door closed behind her. She practically bolts toward Chase's bed, quickly setting her coffee on the table next to the novel she's been reading to him daily, and crawls in carefully beside him. Face buried in his neck as she softly cries, Cameron is overwhelmed by the scent of his shaving cream and aftershave cologne from this morning's quiet ritual, and she takes a few moments to breathe it in deeply in an effort to calm her sudden frustrations.

"Chase," she whispers desperately, "You – I need you to wake up now. You can't do this to me, Chase. Do you hear me? Wake up, Robert!" Cameron softly pleads into his ear, eyes still filling with tears as she begins to stroke his face and run her fingers through his hair, frantic to find some form of contact that will bring him back to her. "I miss you," she cries, head falling onto his chest. "I just - I want you to open your eyes and – and just smile at me. I need you to hold me, okay, because I – I can't take much more of this. You are _not_ allowed to leave me, do you understand me, Robert Chase? _Please_…"

Gripping fistfuls of his shirt as she begins to sob helplessly into Chase's chest, Cameron allows herself these few short moments of weakness after several days of unending strength. It's only temporary, though, she thinks amidst her tears, knowing that soon she'll have to stand tall once again and continue down her chosen path of surrounding Chase with an atmosphere of hope.

If there's any chance at all, she knows that this is the only way.

-------------------------

_December 30__th_

_5:22PM_

Cameron sets the book down open-faced and cover-side-up on her lap, taking a short break from story time with Chase mid-chapter in order to shift into a more comfortable position on the chair. She grabs the luke-warm cup of coffee from the nightstand and takes several long sips, setting it down once more as her eyes fall upon the photo she set there days before, as they do nearly every time her gaze moves in its direction. Sighing heavily, Cameron shakes out her arms and uses both hands to pull up the sleeves on the warm fleece that has now become like a second skin to her. She contorts her neck in several different directions, attempting to ease away the building tension within, and then reluctantly reaches for the book once more.

She's halfway through the novel by now and centered in chapter eleven, where suddenly a bittersweet tale of romance has begun to unfold. Lovely as it is, each subsequent line of affection or description of adoration causes the lump in her throat to grow slightly larger, wondering if Chase has ever compared any parts of this chapter to their relationship, as he has clearly marked comparisons to his own life throughout many previous sections of the story.

Turning to the next page, Cameron's internal query is instantly answered by the sight of yet another highlighted passage – this one also outlined in black ink and clearly tagged with one descriptive word: "Allison."

Inhaling sharply, she blinks back a sudden rush of tears and forces herself to read it aloud. If this was important enough to him to be marked in comparison to her, then perhaps it's important enough to have the necessary effect. And, if nothing else, it will allow her new insight into Chase's feelings.

"'She was terrific to hold hands with,'" Cameron begins, barely able to breathe through the emotions. "'Most girls, if you hold hands with them, their goddam hand dies on you, or else they think they have to keep moving their hands all the time, as if they were afraid they'd bore you or something. Jane was different.'" She pauses now, maneuvering the book so that she can hold it with one hand, reaching out to entangle the fingers of her free hand with Chase's and quickly squeezing tightly. "'We'd get into a goddam movie or something, and right away we'd start holding hands,'" she continues, still fighting back tears, "'and we won't quit till the movie was over. And without changing the position or making a deal out of it. You never even worried, with Jane, whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was, you were happy.'" Cameron stills instantly, almost certain that she's felt Chase tighten his grip on her hand, and then watches him carefully as she quietly finishes the passage. "'You really were…'"

Without even so much as blinking, Cameron continues to stare at their entwined hands, waiting for any sign of confirmation that the response she felt was real. Seconds pass like unending hours, time moving so slowly now that she can hardly remember to breathe. Finally, though, she shifts her gaze away from their hands and moves to look at his face.

"Chase?" she starts slowly, afraid to hope for this miracle only to find out it was nothing more than wishful thinking. "Babe, can you hear me? Chase, it's – it's me, it's – it's Ally, babe. Open your eyes, Chase…"

And this time she is completely confident that she feels his fingers twitch, light pressure on her hand like the gentle touch of a not-so-dead ghost. Without a second's hesitation, she is on her feet and lunging for the call button, yelling at the nurses to page Cuddy and Pearson immediately. She's frantically leaning over Chase's still-unconscious form, trying to talk him into responding again, when Foreman rushes through the doorway moments later.

"How did you – ?" she questions him, not actually caring about the answer right now.

"I was at the nurse's station updating some data in his chart. I heard your call," Foreman answers, trying to stay professional. "Is he waking up?"

"I – I don't know," Cameron replies honestly. "But he – I was reading to him, and he – he squeezed my hand."

Foreman sighs, shoulders falling just a little. "Cameron, that could have been an involuntarily nerve reflex. His muscles haven't been worked in almost a week."

"Twice, Foreman! He did it twice!"

"Okay," he relents, taking her a bit more seriously now, as Dr. Pearson quickly enters the room as well. "Why don't you just – you need to go wait outside while we test him again, okay? If it was a legitimate response, we'll see a vast improvement in his test reactions. I'll be out there to give you the results in a few minutes, I promise."

Glancing back at Chase again, Cameron finally nods quickly and walks out of the room so that the neurologists can confirm her hopeful diagnosis as soon as possible.

Standing in the hallway, Cameron fidgets restlessly with the book she's still holding as she watches through the glass, minutes ticking by without any indication of what Foreman and Pearson are determining on the other side. She feels like she's about to jump out of her skin with excitement, but another tiny part of her mind keeps telling her to expect the worst. Despite feeling certain that what she experienced was real, Cameron still knows there's a chance it was all a mere coincidence.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Foreman steps out into the hall leaving Pearson alone with Chase as he continues to check the monitors for vitals. "Cameron," he offers carefully, and already she can sense that it isn't good news, "we tested absolutely everything there is. The only response he has is to the gag reflex, and that's not – it's nothing new."

"No," she responds with fire in her eyes, "he reacted. He heard my voice – he understood me, and he reacted! That wasn't – that can't just be a fluke, Foreman!"

"I'm sorry, Allison." Foreman watches her carefully, understanding how much of a struggle this must be for her, but unable to give her false hope where there isn't any. "You really need to re-consider what we talked about yesterday. Seven days is almost here."

"Don't," Cameron spits angrily. "I told you, no. I am _not _doing that to him."

"Cameron, he doesn't deserve to live the rest of life like this. Chase is an intensivist, he knows better than any of us what patients go through in persistent, deep comas. You can't honestly believe he would want that for himself."

Eyes rolling upward toward the ceiling, Cameron lets a few tears drop to the floor as Foreman's rationale runs circles through her mind. She knows, deep down, that he's probably right. But her heart won't allow her mind to accept it, and so she does the only thing she knows how to do in desperately confusing times: she turns and walks away.

"Where are you going?" Foreman shouts after her, and Cameron offers him a quick glance over her shoulder before continuing down the hallway toward the corner.

"I need to think."

----------------------

_8:56PM_

"Odd choice for a hiding place," House announces from behind, moving steadily forward until he drops down beside her in the pew. "I mean, you being an atheist and all."

Cameron doesn't even flinch, eyes staring directly ahead at the altar in front of them. He's here to gloat about finding her when no one else could, she thinks, and surely to also rub salt in the wound of her mistaken certainty over Chase's apparent improvement.

"Do you – is that a Bible?" he asks mockingly, reaching out to snatch the book from her hands before she even has time to react. Flipping over to the front cover, House's eyes narrow in confusion. "_Catcher in the Rye_?" he reads the title sardonically. "What are you doing with this? You know, they say this is the favorite book of conspiracy theorists and serial killers. Have you been holding out on me?"

"What do you want, House?"

"Foreman said you disappeared hours ago. Ran off without your beeper or your phone," he replies, flipping through the pages. "Everyone's looking for you. Figured I'd take a shot with ironic locations." Out of the corner of her eye, Cameron notices House stop on a certain page and remove the prayer card that's acted as Chase's bookmark for far too long. "Saint Jude," House comments, completely intrigued. "Patron Saint of Lost Causes. You are one totally twisted atheist."

"Just give me the book back," Cameron demands, reaching out as House turns slightly to keep it away.

"Oh, come on!" House quietly shouts, trying to hold back laughter. "And it's highlighted, too? How many times have you read this book?"

Cameron reaches for it once more, but she's too distracted by her thoughts to try very hard, and she finally gives up when House begins to read the highlighted words from Chase's bookmarked page.

"'He started telling us how he was never ashamed, when he was in some kind of trouble or something, to get right down on his knees and pray to God.'" House pauses, looking up at Cameron, who's staring straight ahead again, wondering if he's been wrong about her all along. "'He told us we should always pray to God - talk to Him and all - whenever we were. He told us we ought to think of Jesus as our buddy and all' – You bookmarked this? _And_ highlighted it? You? You don't even believe in God!"

Cameron takes a slow, shaky breath and turns to look House in the eye. "Chase does. And that's his favorite book."

"That explains a lot," House retorts. "At least it proves that conspiracy theorist rumor."

"He would be here," she continues, choosing to ignore his attempts at baiting her, "if I were the one lying in a hospital bed, dying. He would come in here, and he would pray for me. He would pray for – for some kind of answer."

"And you just figured it would work for you, too? I'm pretty sure God expects people to at least believe in him before begging him for favors."

"I just…" Cameron starts, hesitating when she can't seem to find the right words. "Foreman and Pearson and – and everyone, they think I should take him off the life support. Foreman says he doesn't think Chase would want it for much longer anyway, and I – I know he may be right, but I can't – I've been sitting here for hours, trying to find some kind of wisdom or get some sort of sign. Because I can't do it. I – I can't decide what's right this time."

House stares at her for a few seconds, entranced by her honesty and the openness of her emotions. But it doesn't take long for him to snap back to reality and into his detached persona once more. "Well, look at the bright side. Your decision doesn't matter anymore. You're too late."

Cameron's head spins round to face him, eyes wide with terror and instantly overflowing with tears. "_What_? What are you talking about?"

"I told you, everyone's been looking for you for hours. You should probably get back upstairs," he says calmly, lips turning up in the tiniest hint of a smile. "He's awake."

As the news sinks in, Cameron's face contorts with a mixture of sheer joy and overwhelming fury. Before she even has a chance to second-guess her actions, though, a hand flies upward and she slaps him with the lasting force of a misled woman in her darkest moments of fear.

"You can be a real bastard," she announces, storming out of the chapel and making her way toward Chase once more.


	7. Chapter Six

WARNINGS: Um, mild language and mild discussions of sex?

NOTES: Long final chapter is long! I assume that's not a problem with any of you, though? :-) This is it, kids - the end of the road, the final installment of this story. I've really loved taking this journey with our lovers, and I hope you all enjoy the way it all wraps up and comes to an end. Don't forget to comment/review and let me know what you think! Beta'd by **enigma731**.

**Chapter Six**

_December 30__th_

_9:09PM_

Cameron reaches the doorway to his room within minutes, having raced up the stairs and down every hallway in anticipation of seeing for herself whether or not what House told her is actually true. At the sight of all of the doctors, including Foreman, crowded around Chase's bed and laughing in his direction, Cameron's heart swells with indescribable relief. She leans quietly against the doorway, taking a few moments to gather her emotions and simply watching the scene before her, waiting for the crowd to part so that she can finally see Chase's newly alert face for herself.

"Well, I'm glad you finally decided to return to the living, man," Foreman chuckles, reaching out a hand to grasp Chase's shoulder tightly, before stepping away from the bed and moving to grab his chart.

Somewhere in the back of Cameron's mind, she registers that Foreman is still talking, that he's delivering information to Chase that is probably quite important. But none of it matters now, because the space left open by Foreman's movement has provided Cameron with a direct line of sight toward Chase's head. He's sitting up, she notices, propped up by several pillows and gripping the thick, gray blanket she brought for him in his lap. Chase hasn't noticed her presence yet, still focused on Foreman's instructions and the anectdotal tales from all of the other doctors and nurses in the room. The emotions flooding through Cameron's body run the gamut from joy to relief to anger and back around again, as she stares breathlessly, almost disbelieving that he is finally okay.

And just as the tears begin to form in Cameron's eyes, Chase seems to momentarily still, as if sensing her energy in the room before even realizing that she's actually there. Slowly, he turns his head to the doorway, eyes instantly locking with hers. For several seconds, they both simply gaze. She knows he's been brought up to speed on his condition by now, and is therefore completely aware of how close he came to death, the pained look in his eyes telling her that it's terrified him, too.

"Sorry, can you…" Chase speaks to the occupants of his room tiredly, never taking his eyes from Cameron's. "Could you give us a few minutes, please?"

Everyone in the room follows Chase's gaze, immediately understanding his wishes when they see Cameron waiting fragilely at the entrance. With a few hasty, quiet farewells, the room begins to clear, and soon there is nothing but quiet and two pairs of eyes that refuse to part.

"Hi," Chase finally whispers softly, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Hi, yourself," Cameron responds with a swipe at the tears now falling down her cheeks. "Are you – how are you?" She ventures a few steps into the room, stopping just short of his bedside and barely out of reach as Chase studies her actions carefully.

"Tired, if you can believe it. Foreman and Pearson say I'm practically good as new, though, so… and now you're here. I'd say I'm doing pretty well, all things considered."

"Good. I'm glad," she says tightly, chewing on her bottom lip. "You – you almost died."

"I know," Chase answers, tilting his head just a little in an effort to get a better view of her down-turned face.

"No," Cameron suddenly barks, snapping her head up and glaring across the small distance into the baby-blues she's been neglected of for nearly a week. "No, you almost _died_! Over a wallet! A fucking wallet, and your ridiculous need to protect me all the time!"

Eyes narrowing, Chase remains silent but reaches out for her, unable to make contact due to the space she's left between.

"You're so goddamn irresponsible that you didn't even realize you dropped your wallet in your disaster of a locker, and then – and then you couldn't just ask me to bring it home, could you? You just _had_ to drive all the way back here and get it! You just _had_ to try to protect me by thinking you could drive me home safely! But you know what, Chase? I don't feel very fucking protected after spending the past several days watching you slowly die on me," she screams, stepping closer as she lightly shoves him in the shoulder, face reddened with anger and residual fear. "You convinced me to count on you, but you're not worth anything to me dead, you jackass!"

Chase freezes at her words, simultaneously stung by the tone and moved by their meaning. He understands that it's the fear causing her to momentarily lash out. Cameron has just confessed his importance in her life right along with those fears, and the confirmation of his heightened status in her heart causes a grin to slowly spread from ear to ear.

"Why are you smiling?" Cameron growls, ripping her hand away when Chase reaches out again and manages to take hold this time.

"Allison," he breathes her name reverently, carefully grabbing her wrist once more and slowly pulling her onto the bed when she doesn't resist anymore. He brings his free hand up to her face and tenderly wipes a tear from her averted eyes, moving to her chin to tilt it toward him until he can gaze into the emerald pools once more. "Ally. It's okay. I missed you, too."

Cameron loses herself in his adoration for several moments, shaky breath hitching in her throat before she finally collapses into his arms, wrapping her own desperately around his neck and squeezing tightly as she cries.

"Thank you," she sobs into his ear. "But don't ever scare me like that again."

-------------------------

_December 31__st__ – New Years Eve_

_6:22AM_

The unnecessarily loud rattling of carts being pushed down the hallway stirs Cameron into a state of mild awareness, and the soft sounds of several footfalls coupled with murmurs of discussion bring her to the conclusion that morning rounds are in progress. As soon as that realization hits her, though, Cameron remembers where she is – and why. Waking up in Chase's hospital bed has been a constant for nearly a week, and suddenly she finds herself questioning whether or not his awakening was all a fabulously cruel dream. He remains still beneath her, chest rising and falling evenly beside the spot where her face rests upon his shoulder, and Cameron swallows hard in preparation for what she fears she'll find upon looking up.

With a slow hesitation, she pushes herself up a few inches with her elbows and tilts her head in the direction she knows his will be resting. The sounds of the ventilator are noticeably gone this quiet morning, but Cameron doesn't trust herself enough yet to honestly believe what she hopes that means. She needs visual confirmation that the machine is no longer attached to his body, breathing for him and keeping him forcibly alive, but her eyes refuse to look in that precise direction despite the fact that her head is aimed almost entirely toward his now.

"Hey, you."

The sound of his voice is all the confirmation she requires, and Cameron's gaze instantly shifts to meet his gorgeously open blue eyes. Chase is wide awake, alive and watching her with so much adoration that her heart nearly bursts through her chest.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispers, a loving smile playing across his lips.

Cameron heaves a deep sigh of incredible relief, almost crying all over again at the joy of finding him awake, then dips her forehead to rest it happily against his. "You – it wasn't a dream. You're really back." she breathes softly, face glowing as she stares unblinkingly into his eyes.

Chase nods gently, reaching up to caress her cheek softly. "I'm back. This is real, don't worry."

"I'm not worried, I'm just so – I'd kiss you right now if your breath wasn't so awful," she laughs quietly, placing her hand over his on her face and smiling wider when he chuckles in return, pulling her tightly against him for a hug.

"Thank you for catching me," Chase whispers in her ear, running his fingers through her long, blonde locks.

"What?" asks Cameron distractedly, not yet ready to pull away from the embrace.

"_Catcher in the Rye_. You didn't let me go over the cliff."

Cameron moves back quickly, arms still wrapped loosely around his neck, and stares into his eyes disbelievingly. "You – you knew I was – you heard me?"

"I don't know, I mean – I remember bits and pieces. I remember knowing you were holding my hand, and trying to find a way to tell you that I was…" He drifts off quietly, looking over her shoulder and smiling softly at the sight of their anniversary photo propped delicately on the bedside table, before returning to her gaze and searching deeply for some unknown answer. "Where were you when I woke up?"

She freezes momentarily, eyes darting away from his, and takes a deep breath. "It doesn't matter," she whispers, looking up again and smiling confidently. "What else do you remember? What… was it like? The coma, I mean."

"It was," Chase pauses, inhaling slowly and deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts. "I don't know how to describe it. Everything is still kind of fuzzy, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's just going to take a few more hours. You're still healing," Cameron reassures him with a sweet smile. "Just… tell me anything you can remember. I just want to hear your voice."

"It was… incredible." Chase watches her for a reaction, but continues carefully when she makes no movement to question his usage of that descriptor. "I felt so peaceful, you know? And there were times when I could swear it was like I was actually experiencing the afterlife. I've always been curious about Heaven, and whether or not people actually get glimpses of God during near-death experiences, but – but now I know. They do. I did. There were times when I think I was aware of you being here, talking to me, and I think – I think maybe…"

"What?" Cameron interjects when he fails to complete his thought after several seconds.

"You'll think it's ridiculous," he tells her, giving her a look that says he knows her better than she believes.

"Tell me. Please?"

"The Bible teaches us a lot about the power of faith, and that those who believe will be rewarded in miraculous ways. What I went through – everything that Foreman and Pearson told me about my condition? – I shouldn't be here, Ally. It's a miracle that I survived. That I woke up. And I think maybe it was–because I still have more to accomplish… with my faith, with my career, with – with you…"

Cameron's eyes are filled with tears now, she's so deeply moved by not only his implications of their future together but also the strength of his religious convictions. Atheist or not, Cameron has a great deal of respect for this faith that means so much to Chase and that has helped shape him into the amazing person she feels lucky enough to call her own. What's more, she finds herself thinking that perhaps this past week of trials and tribulations has been more than enough to make her reconsider her own status as a non-believer.

"It's like maybe God planned all of this," Chase continues quietly, cupping her face with both of his hands. "Like maybe you're my guardian angel. Even if you don't actually believe in any of that prayer stuff."

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly and allowing several tears to escape, Cameron bites her lip quickly out of nervousness and then forces herself to meet Chase's eyes once more. "I was in the chapel."

Chase's smile widens again as the meaning of her confession sinks in, and he slowly lowers her back to the bed until she is once again resting safely against his chest. "Thank you," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head tenderly before giving in to the pull of sleep once more and reluctantly letting his eyelids fall closed.

---------------------------

_12:42PM_

"Might want to rinse with some Listerine when you're done there, babe," Cameron laughs lightly as Chase sits upright in bed, brushing his teeth and spitting every twenty seconds into the basin she's placed in his lap.

"You're funny," he snarks back in reply. "See if I'm nice to you the next time you come home smelling like an ER full of vomit."

Cameron turns from where she's digging through a duffle bag and smiles mischievously as Chase sips from the water glass, rinsing out the last of the toothpaste. "Oh, you will be. Not only can you not resist me, but I've got the good stuff," she assures him, holding up a pile of his clothes from home, "and you can't have it without my help."

"Is that my rugby sweatshirt?" Chase asks excitedly.

"It is," she giggles, walking toward him and setting the pile at the foot of the bed. "Since Foreman says you have to be here for a few more days, I thought you'd be more comfortable in some of your favorites. You know, instead of that hospital gown that leaves your bare ass easily accessible – not that I mind, personally."

"You're the best," he says with a genuine smile. "For bringing all of this."

After waking up a second time earlier this morning, Cameron decided to let Chase rest as much as possible while she ran home to grab more necessities from their apartments – all of these items on the list of things he'll need now that he is finally awake.

"I know," Cameron winks playfully. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

She leans over him to reach behind and untie the strings on his gown, removing it carefully and slowly beginning a routine of bathing his skin with a sponge. The tension between them builds stronger and stronger, both desperate for more physical contact after such trying times, but Cameron remains steadfast in her caretaker duties as she tries to make small talk to pass the time.

"Foreman and Pearson were right. You're much stronger than you probably should be this soon after coming out of it. It's like nothing bad even happened at all. Like you've just been sleeping." She pauses to take a deep breath, knowing he probably understands just how much she wishes that were the truth. Determined to keep the mood light and fun for now, though, she dips the sponge back into the soapy basin on the table and forges on. "And they're letting you come home in a couple of days. I cleaned up when I was home so it'll be a little easier for you to get around. I even brought your Xbox over and hooked it up in my living room, so you won't have to be so bored."

"I'm going home to your place?" Chase asks in pleasant surprise. "Really?"

Cameron's heart simultaneously leaps and sinks at the sound of his reaction, thrilled that he's so happy to be completing his recovery in her apartment but sickened with herself that he still even partially questions whether or not that would be an option. "Of course. You're not going home by yourself. Half of your stuff is at my house now, anyway. I _want_ you there, Chase."

His only response is a silent, trusting nod as she finishes the sponge bath and helps him dry off with a towel, moving to redress him in an oversized t-shirt, his favorite hoodie, and a pair of boxers from his drawer in her bedroom dresser.

"Now you'll at least be a bit more comfortable," she continues, maneuvering carefully around his broken ankle as she works to pull a pair of black track pants over his cast and up around his waist.

"Yeah. I just wish I didn't have to be out of work for so long," Chase sighs heavily. "I hate the idea of putting the department in someone else's hands without me around to run interference whenever House comes demanding a procedure."

Cameron smiles sympathetically, sitting on the bed beside him once she's finished with the pants. "It's just the ankle, so you should be able to put on a walking cast and a boot pretty quickly. You'll be ready to be back on your feet long before you're physically and mentally ready to be back in the OR at all. And in the meantime, you'll have me to keep you company."

"And to steal my clothes," he adds, reaching out to pull her closer and grabbing onto the sleeve of the fleece jacket she's still wearing. "I've been meaning to ask you since last night, but – I'm never getting this back now, am I?"

Blushing deeply, Cameron pulls the fleece tighter around her and shakes her head sharply. "I've bonded with it pretty tightly over the past week."

"I suppose I can let it go, then," says Chase with a soft chuckle, moving his hand slowly down her fleece-covered arm and taking hold of her hand tightly. "Thank you, Allison. I'm not – I don't really know how to let someone else take care of me. I'm not used to – you didn't have to do all of this. But thank you."

Cameron stares into his eyes with complete sincerity, wishing she could will away all of the things in his past that have made him so unable to depend on another human being and trust that their intentions are inherently good. "You don't have to thank me, Chase. Of course I'll take care of you. I mean, I – I love you, you know that, right?"

The smile returns to Chase's lips, wider now than it's ever been before.

"I do now."

--------------------------

_7:13PM_

"How's that?" Cameron asks, massaging the stiff muscles of Chase's inner thigh as she stands steadily at the edge of his hospital bed.

Chase moans slightly at the magic emanating from her fingertips. "Feels great. But if you're not careful, we're going to have a situation here soon," he tells her with a tantalizing glint in his eye, winding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

"Chase! We're in the hospital!" Cameron protests with a laugh, rolling her eyes and playfully trying to push away from his grip.

"Yeah, because that's always stopped us before," he responds with a pointed and sarcastic look. "The blinds are closed. No one will ever know…"

"Right," she tosses back, "forget the fact that you just came out of a week-long coma less than twelve hours ago and are still healing from internal injuries that almost cost you your life. That's all forgotten when you want sex, huh?"

Chase slowly rolls his eyes toward the ceiling in that classic gesture she's come to know as his dramatic way of pretending to consider a thought quite seriously. "Um – yeah, pretty much," he finally answers, giving her an incredible smile that nearly breaks her resolve.

"Stop it," she chortles, playfully smacking Chase in the back of the head and pulling away from his hold on her to continue her physical therapy on his legs. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love me."

Cameron looks up from the foot of the bed where she's rubbing the calf of his uninjured leg and smiles with an almost embarrassed sweetness. "Yeah."

She lifts his leg in her hands, working to exercise his lethargic knee joint, as he continues to stare at her adoringly for several silent minutes before speaking again, breaking the emotional tension that surrounds her recent confession of love. "So – still no sex, then?"

With a loud snort, Cameron carefully places his leg back onto the bed and rolls her eyes when she notices the exaggerated pout playing on his lips. "Don't be such a baby. I'm taking the next three weeks off to be home with you, and you've already been healing for a week, so… maybe you'll get lucky on your first night out of here."

"Just maybe?" Chase prods teasingly, enjoying the return of the easy banter in place of so much serious discussion.

"Okay," Cameron sighs, smiling, "you _will_. I still have the Christmas tree up in my living room, and I'm not taking it down until we do it under those lights like we'd planned."

"Oh, fuck!" Chase suddenly shouts, and Cameron freezes her motions out of fear that she's managed to hurt him somehow. When she meets his eyes, though, they're filled with guilt instead of pain. "Christmas. I'm sorry – I ruined everything, we – we missed Christmas."

Cameron breathes a sigh of relief that she hasn't harmed him with her attempts at helping, then slowly moves to sit upon the bed, arm around his neck and fingers running through his hair tenderly. "It's okay. You're alive, and you're awake, and you're – you're perfect. That's the best present I could ever get."

"I'll make it up to you," he whispers softly, guilt still lingering in the depths of his gaze, "I promise."

"We'll make it up to each other," Cameron corrects him. "But if you want to get a head start," she continues, turning to reach into the bedside drawer and pulling out the mistletoe he had left hanging in her locker, shifting back into place against him and dangling it in front of his eyes, "I'm pretty sure you're the one who owes me a kiss, now."

His smile returns, realizing she found and kept his locker room surprise, and Chase licks his lips in preparation for their first real kiss since his awakening. Leaning forward just slightly, Cameron lowers her head to close the remaining distance when a loud knock on the blinds-covered glass shatters the moment just seconds before contact. Cameron and Chase pull back, disappointment and frustration evident on both of their faces, as the sound of the opening sliding door fills the room and a hand reaches through the blinds to push them aside.

"Dr. Cameron? Dr. – Dr. Chase?"

The voice travels to their ears several moments before the figure it belongs to manages to step through the tangled entryway, stopping just over the threshold and looking across the room with a nervous fear in her eyes.

"Kassie," Cameron starts, moving instinctively closer to Chase on the bed and setting the mistletoe in his lap, hand now resting territorially on his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," the young nurse whispers, a far cry from the audacious loudmouth Cameron had confronted in the ER locker room a full week before. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I just – I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, Dr. Chase, for… for being so aggressive the other week. I didn't realize you were already in love," she smiles knowingly. "You two look – you look like you complete each other. I don't know how I didn't figure it out right away, and I'm sorry – Dr. Cameron, I'm just so sorry for what happened that night. I didn't know, and I never meant to – I'm really, really sorry. I've been wanting to tell you that all week, but I didn't think you'd want to hear it when he was still – but he's okay now, right? You're okay?" Kassie asks, finally, looking toward Chase once more.

He nods softly, brow furrowed in clear confusion about exactly who she is or what it is that she's apologizing for in the first place.

Cameron clears her throat quickly to grab Kassie's attention again, reassuring her with a gentle smile. "It's alright, Kassie. But thank you for coming up here to say that. I appreciate it. Listen," she continues, hoping to put an end to the conversation so that she and Chase can be alone again, "I'll be back at work in a few weeks, and maybe you and I can grab a coffee together, okay?"

Kassie's face lights up instantly, her body visibly relaxing at once. "I'd love that, Dr. Cameron. I'll, um – I'll just see you in a few weeks then. I'm gonna leave you two alone – sorry, again, for interrupting… whatever you were doing. I'm really glad you're okay, Dr. Chase," she tells him sweetly, then glances between the two of them with a smile before finishing as she turns to leave, "I'm happy for you both. You deserve the best."

Cameron and Chase watch silently as Kassie makes her exit, closing the door behind her but forgetting to pull the blinds in the process. "What was that about?" Chase asks, completely baffled.

"Doesn't matter right now," Cameron tells him, reaching for the mistletoe again and pulling on his neck gently with a desperate smile. "Where were we?"

But before their mutual longing for a kiss can be fulfilled, the door quickly slides open again and their best friends, Abby and Will, enter with armfuls of flowers, balloons and gifts, followed immediately by the rest of their non-hospital friends, and Chase and Cameron both know the moment is now decidedly lost.

Looking to Chase in annoyance and mild upset, Cameron drops the mistletoe yet again and he laughs lightly, reaching up to caress her face.

"Rain check?"

---------------------------

_11:56PM_

"So, what should we do for three whole weeks at home?"

Chase eyes her sharply, as if the answer should be more than obvious.

"I mean, other than that," she laughs, snuggling in tighter against him and trailing a finger up and down the palm of his hand.

"Well," he says, seriously pondering the question now, "I guess I'll finally have to teach you how to play Guitar Hero, huh? That'll get us through several hours a day."

"I don't know," Cameron replies reluctantly. "I brought the Xbox over for you in case I needed to run some errands and leave you there alone. Not to distract us from each other all day."

"No, it's not like that," Chase promises adamantly. "It's Guitar Hero! It's interactive! It'll be like we're in a band together – it'll be fun, you'll love it."

She eyes him uncertainly, clearly still nervous about the idea, until suddenly the look on Chase's face shifts to one of mischief and mocking.

"You told that Jasper kid a few years ago that you love video games. Were you _lying_, Dr. Cameron?"

"I wasn't lying, I was just – I can't believe you even remember that!"

"That kid was trying to steal my girl," he tells her teasingly. "And he bit me in a fight for your honor. Of course I remember the little brat."

"Excuse me, but I was _not_ your girl yet," Cameron shoots back in mock seriousness, "and maybe – maybe I was just trying to get under your skin with the video game thing. Make you crazy by bonding with the kid."

Chase turns his head and pulls back slightly to stare at her with wide eyes, shock written across his face. "I knew it! You little sneak," he replies, reaching down to tickle her quickly on her side. She squirms with laughter, but they both settle down once again before his actions and her movements can cause him any unnecessary pain.

As she sits up just slightly so that she can wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean her head softly against his temple, the noise from the TV on the wall grows louder and they both look toward it to realize that only one minute remains until the stroke of midnight and the start of a brand new year.

"Great," Chase sighs sullenly, causing Cameron to pull away and examine the sudden disappointment in his eyes. "New Years Eve in a hospital bed. You know, they say one of the main superstitions of New Years Eve is that you spend the entire next year of your life doing whatever it is that you're doing at midnight," he tells her, attempting to explain. "And this is what I'm doing at midnight: lying in the ICU with internal injuries and a broken ankle. Not the best omen for 2009, really."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Cameron comforts him with a knowing smile, hearing the people in Times Square start to count down the remaining thirty seconds of the year. "If that's how the superstition works, then I'd say it's going to be a pretty great year."

"Oh yeah?" he replies, eyes twinkling with intrigue. "And why's that?"

"Because lying here isn't the only thing you'll be doing at midnight."

And as the crowd on television shouts out the final countdown of 2008, Cameron places her free hand upon his cheek and wraps the other around his neck tightly, pulling him toward her and finally, hungrily crashing her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Lips parting in desperation, their tongues begin a brilliant dance of aching need that's been eluding them all day, not to mention all week, and the fireworks exploding behind their eyes are far more memorable than any celebration taking place around the world right now. This is the moment they've both been waiting for, and finally experiencing the passion again is the last piece of reassurance that they will, in fact, be more than just okay.

By the time they both reluctantly pull away, gasping for breath and gazing at one another with tears in their eyes, the clock now reads 12:01AM. They have successfully crossed over into the new year lost in each other's touch, setting a superstitious precedent for a year filled with indescribable passion.

"I love you," Chase eventually manages, choking back the lump in his throat. "I love you so much."

"Me too," smiles Cameron, a tear rolling down her cheek as she leans forward to quickly kiss him once more. "Happy New Year, babe."

-------------------------

**FIN.**


End file.
